Howl
by nmd529
Summary: After avenging Laura's death and saying goodbye to Derek, Jane Brown was so sure that she was ready to move on with her life. But, just as the dust has settled and she's begun to relax back into reality, the arrival of a ruthless Hunter and the emergence of a new lethal creature drags her back to the supernatural, to danger and sacrifice, and back to the mysterious Derek Hale.
1. Chapter One

**After a nice, brief break, I've finally decided to return from my hiatus and continue on with this story. I want to thank you all for your kind words about "Home" and that they truly did make me so happy while I was resting my muse. Just so you all know, the plot will be loosely following the plot of season two, but, as always, I will throw in a few of my own twists as well as a couple new characters. The plot will be set about a couple months after the events of the first season—I know a little bit of time passed by in between seasons on the television show, but it seemed to be more realistic with the developments of the characters if a good chunk of time elapsed. I also want to add that, for those of you who have taken a peek at my Author's Page, I used to have Felicity Jones as the actress who portrayed Jane. But, after some thought, I have decided to change actresses to Emilia Clarke, mostly known for her role as Daenerys on Game of Thrones (which is an incredible show, by the way). There are a couple pictures posted of her (as a brunette, of course) in case you all want to take a look sometime. (: Also, the lovely graphic that is the book cover for this story was created by the incredible Lady Asphodel from The Dark Arts. If anyone is interested in graphics, they should definitely check out that website-they have the most talented artists I've ever seen. Well, without further ado, here is the first (of hopefully many) installment of "Howl":**

**Favorite Line:**

"_Derek?"_

* * *

The sharp, harsh sound of a locker slamming jolted me from my tangled thoughts, my shoulders visibly shuddering as I cast a surprised glance around the room I was entrapped within. The backroom of Beacon Hills Hospital was practically bustling with nurses and doctors and medical staff who were either buzzing about finally being free from their shifts or morosely silent as they prepared to begin their nights. Most of their faces were vaguely familiar, but there were still a couple undecipherable faces sprinkled throughout them. Dressed in my emerald green nurse's scrubs, I blended in quite well with them—as if I actually worked with them.

Forcing a vaguely calming breath through my gritted teeth, I found myself stumbling upon the woman standing right over my shoulder out the corner of my eye. She was clad in sunshine-yellow nurse's scrubs, thick-soled black sneakers encasing her feet. Soft slivers of grey streaked throughout her stick-straight, light brown hair, lines tugging at the corners of her beady, black eyes. The sharp tip of her nose was slightly tilted downward, nearly pointing directly to the white, linoleum floor that was only five feet away from her.

Catching my glance, a rather sheepish grin spread across the woman's lined face as she said, "Sorry about that, Jane. I didn't know you were so skittish."

"Don't worry about it," I shrugged, offering her a light smile and hoping I would wipe the determined sense of curiosity that, in an instant, was sweeping across her sharp features.

Beth Hart had been the first of my coworkers that I had managed to meet when I'd started my measly desk job at Beacon Hills, partly since she was usually scheduled for the same shifts as me. The real reason, however, was that Beth made sure to shove her pointy nose into each and every person she met while working and digging up the long list of dirty secrets and juicy gossip that she can dish out at her book club. I knew this all too well thanks to my incessant need to make friends and my naïve decision to attend one of these book club meetings. To be honest, the meeting seemed to lack any talk about the book we were assigned to read, and was mostly filled with vicious, snarky comments about some woman with a botched boob job.

"So, Jane," said Beth now, jarring me from the painful memory and dragging me back to the present with her curious smile. "Any plans for tonight? It is Friday, after all."

Initially I simply shrugged, slipping my arms through my pale blue fleece jacket and silently zipping it up to my bare neck. Being jolted by the insistent stare of Beth, I blinked and relented, "I'm just running some errands before I go home—go to the grocery store, maybe stop at the gym—"

"That's the exact opposite of my Friday nights when I was in college," came a familiar, lightly amused voice from my left.

In a quick instant, a rush of relief fluttered through my veins as I glanced over to find Melissa McCall unbundling her thick, curly curtain of beautiful chocolate brown hair from the top of her head, her warm dark eyes flicking from her locker—which was located to the right of mine—and my own.

Sticking her nose up in the air in muted annoyance, Beth cocked an eyebrow at Melissa and asked nosily, "And what exactly were those Friday nights like, Melissa?"

"When I remember them, I'll let you know, Beth," she grinned in response, grabbing her belongings from her locker and beginning to shrug her own jacket onto her slender shoulders. "Oh, and I think Denise was looking for you."

Pursing her lips at the thought of our stubborn, sharp-tongued supervisor, Beth sighed and slipped out of the locker room, following the scores of people that were finally slipping out of the door. As I fumbled through my purse for my purse keys, I glanced up at Melissa and couldn't help but consider how, just a couple months ago, I hadn't been able to even look at her without automatically considering the fact that she was Scott's mother. But, after Scott had managed to officially introduce me to his mother and explain how I was desperate to find a job at the hospital, she had been more than happy to recommend me to her supervisor and, in less than two weeks, I was starting orientation. Still, even when we were working on the same shift with one another, I would still occasionally catch myself nearly calling her Mrs. McCall.

"What did Denise want with Beth?" I asked her now curiously.

"Nothing," she replied simply, mischievous smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "I just figured I wasn't the only one who needed a break from Beth." Smirking as I bit back my own understanding smile, Melissa added, "So, really, now that Beth's gone—what are your plans for tonight?"

Blinking up at her in puzzlement, I slowly replied, "I was telling the truth. I just have to go to the grocery store to pick up a few things and stop at the gym, then I'm just going home. I have to do get some studying done anyways, since I'm covering Amy's shift tomorrow night right after mine." Catching the strange expression blossoming on her usually warm face, I frowned and added, "What is it?"

"You do realize you are almost twenty years old, live in your own apartment, and are a college student?" said Melissa. At my confused nod, she continued, "Well, having those attributes basically requires you to go out drinking and partying and making mistakes that will make you cringe twenty years down the road."

My responding laughter and shaking of my head didn't seem to appease Melissa one bit. Even as I slammed my own locker shut and returned my gaze to her determined stare, I wasn't quite sure how she had expected me to respond. Eventually I said with a little shrug, my gaze still cast onto the contents of my purse, "Big college parties aren't exactly my type of scene. And I really do have to get some work done before this weekend—I'm scheduled to work all weekend long, and if I don't get it all done, I'll fall behind and—"

"Jane," said Melissa firmly, forcing me to stop my incessant rambling and reluctantly stare at her. "You need to stop worrying so much about your responsibilities—it's great, don't get me wrong, but you need to get out and do something. Go to a frat party, go to a club, go on a date—"

At her last suggestion, I subconsciously sucked in a sharp gasp of breath, my spine stiffening as I momentarily forgot about possibly finding my car keys. My eyelids slipped closed, my mind struggling to stifle the thoughts of a penetrating pair of forest green eyes from creeping back into my head. I had been doing so well the past couple of months, forgetting about the past and moving on with my life—and yet, with one tiny word from my coworker, all of that progress was eviscerated in a second.

Avoiding the sharp eyes of Melissa as my fingers finally clasped the cool metal of my keys, I quietly said, "It's probably a good idea to…not go on any dates for right now."

"How come?" asked Melissa, a tad bit puzzled now.

Sighing, I finally offered her a weak smile. "My last relationship was a little…complicated, you could say. It's just a bad idea to start dating right now. But," I hastily added as she opened her mouth, "I promise you I will try to have a little bit more fun and stop being so serious all the time. I promise I will."

It took Melissa only a second of searching my cerulean blue eyes to finally nod and smile gently down at me. "I'll hold you to that promise," she said, causing me to softly chuckle. "Have a good night, alright?"

"You too," I replied just as she slipped out of the locker room. It took me a few more calming breaths before I could gather my strength and, ignoring the slight trembling deep within my knees, step back into the fluorescent lights of the hospital and return back to reality.

* * *

Just as I slipped out of my car and bundled up my wide, brown paper grocery bags into my arms, a loud vibrating erupted within my pocket. Groaning in annoyance, I kicked my car door closed with the toe of my tennis shoe, only to have it creak loudly in protest as it gently rested against the door jamb. Rolling my eyes, I reached my fingers down and slammed it shut, vaguely thinking about how I really needed to start looking around for a new car. Mine, which had gone through long, harrowingly cold winters and a long commute across the country, was in desperate need of a reprieve.

Briefly shaking these wishful thoughts from my mind, I balanced my grocery bags against the hood of my car and, with my momentarily free hand, dug my buzzing cell phone from my pocket and pressed it against my ear. "Hello?" I asked, shoving my bags back into my grasp.

"Hey Jane," came my uncle's voice, exhaustion already creeping into his voice from a long day's work. "Hope I'm not catching you at a bad time."

"Not at all," I told him, cradling my phone into the crease of my shoulder as I took a step away from my car and began my trek up to my home.

When I say home, I don't mean my grandparents' house—in fact, I had not returned to my bedroom in that house for a month now. After finishing my last semester at Beacon Hills High School and earning an acceptance letter to a local community college, I had found that it was time to finally move out onto my own. Using a portion of my savings and a chunk of the money my father had left behind after his passing, I had managed to find a decently sized apartment with a reasonable rent, one right on the outskirts of downtown Beacon Hills. So, after packing up all of my belongings for a second time in less than a year, I was forced to do the most difficult part of moving—saying goodbye.

Believe it or not, my grandfather had been the one to shed a few tears when I had hugged him goodbye. They had glistened on his papery, wrinkled skin as he whispered about how truly proud he was of me, and that their door was always open if I ever needed a place to stay the night. Nana, on the other hand, had simply smiled sadly down at me as she bundled me up in her arms and repeated my grandfather's words, adding that she was positive that my father would have been immensely proud of how far I had gone.

Shoving away the painful memories as I reached the front door of my apartment building, I added into the phone, "I just got home from the grocery store—I honestly completely forgot about your dinner tonight until about fifteen minutes ago, so I had to scramble to pick up a few things."

As I punched in the code to my apartment build and waited patiently for the click of the electronic lock, I expected Uncle Jake to say something, anything about our planned dinner for the night. We had sworn to each other that, once a month, we would get together and have dinner, instead of allowing the responsibilities of our lives to swallow us whole. But, as I pushed the main entrance door open with my back, all that came to my ear was a quiet, "Yeah, Jane, about that…"

"What happened?" I asked immediately, an instant foreboding sensation flooding my senses as my steps resounded throughout the empty foyer. A line of slate gray mailboxes stood parallel to me, but I was forced to ignore their gleaming beckoning and cross the pearly white tile floor. The staircase was only a few steps away, past the faulty elevator, but I ignored the inner dreading of having to climb four flights of stairs as I nervously waited for my uncle's response.

"Nothing bad," he replied, temporarily stifling my fears. "Well, I guess that's not true. A girl went missing a few hours ago and now I have to lead a search party into the Reserve to find her. I'm sorry, Jane; I know I already cancelled on you before—"

"It's not your fault, Uncle Jake," I interrupted him, easily masking the pang of disappointment deep within me as I continued my ascent up the staircase to my apartment. "It's your job. We'll just get together some other time. Who's the girl?"

"It's L—what was that? Alright, thanks, Johnson."

My brow furrowing and wrinkling my forehead as my tired feet slowly staggered up the last flight of stairs, I bewilderedly asked into the phone, "Uncle Jake?"

"Sorry about that, Jane," he replied, already distracted from whatever had been hissed into his ear. "I have to go, but I'll call you tomorrow, alright?"

"Okay, be—" I tried to stay before the line clicked dead. "Careful," I whispered my finish to my lost goodbye and, with a heavy sigh, closed my cell phone and held it tightly within my grasp as I slipped out of the stairwell.

The corridor floor was blanketed with indigo blue carpet, the soft material cushioning the soles of my sneakers as I quietly maneuvered myself towards my front door. It was only a short walk, but in the thick, heavy silence resounding through the empty hallway, I was positive that it would take an eternity before I could finally return home. If it weren't for the lightweight material of my scrubs, sweat would surely have been building underneath my arms and beading on my back. Instead, moisture was only building on the back of my neck, right where my long-pony-tail was sticking to my pale skin. Once I put my groceries away, all I wanted to do was take an extensively long, hot shower, slip into some comfy pajamas, and finish my studying before I crashed.

Sighing in pure pleasure of the imminence of this eventual happening, I finally reached my front door and began to dig through my pockets for my key. It was only when my tired eyes lazily glanced down at the door knob that I realized I was wasting my time searching for my keys.

The door was already open a crack, a sliver of darkness tumbling through the gap of open air between the door and the wall.

For just a moment, I stood, frozen, before my open front door, my fingers still fruitlessly digging through my pockets for my needless keys. Shivers shuddered up and down my spine, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. Heavy pounding erupted within my sensitive ears; it only took me an agonizingly slow second to realize that it was the sound of my heartbeat.

Not even bothering to take in a calming breath, I tentatively relieved the heavy grocery bags from my aching arms onto the floor beside the open door and allowed a short moment to pass before I plunged my hand into my purse and grabbed ahold of the one possession I swore I would never leave home with—my father's pistol.

Clicking off the safety and firmly holding it in my grip, I allowed my mind and body to prepare themselves for whoever I would be confronting on the other side of the door before poking the soft wood of the door with the toe of my right tennis shoe. Silently I gently prodded it open, a short creak resounding throughout the still corridor as the empty foyer of my apartment met my gaze. Not hesitating for a second, I breathlessly stepped into my apartment, smothering the wild fear threatening to claw out of me as the darkness surrounded me, eyes peeled for any sort of movement.

Through the empty foyer and hallway, past my cramped kitchen and within my meager living room, there was not a single soul to be found. As soon as my mind registered this temporary relief, I was finally able to grasp the resounding trail the intruder had left within my apartment. Open, torn books littered the floor, my bookcase lying on its back and still shuddering from the horrific ordeal it had suffered through. My coffee table was upturned, shards of glass embedded deeply into the scratched, dark wooden floors and innocently glistening in the moonlight streaming through my open windows—my pale yellow curtains had been ripped from the wall, tattered beyond repair as they lay in pieces on the floor. My couch had been gauged, the cushioned shredded into undecipherable pieces as the bits of cotton lay all around my frozen feet.

It took all of my stubborn willpower to turn away from the horrible damage done to my home and continue down the twisted hallway. The sole door left that had to be checked was wide open, heavy darkness blanketing my entire pathway. Biting down hard upon my lip and barely realizing that I was drawing blood, I peeked around the corner and barely allowed myself a moment to blankly gaze at my ravaged bedroom—the mattress torn to pieces, the pillows scattered in ripped chunks as feathers littered the wooden floors—before turning away.

My ragged breaths billowed out before me but I refused to allow my fear consume me as it had so many times before. Mutely my fingers stretched into my pocket, dragging my phone out. I subconsciously began to type in an all-too familiar phone number, ignoring the whispers deep within me warning that I had vowed to myself that I would never dial that number again. Swallowing the lump in the back of my throat, I listened to the first ring before an agonizingly familiar, deep voice came to me.

"Hello?"

Parting my lips, I was startled to find that my voice had completely died in the back of my throat. Even in my fear of what had happened to my apartment, it took me a moment to move past the mixture of immense fear, sadness, muted anger, and pure joy at the sound of the voice. "Hello?" the voice repeated again, tinged now with slight annoyance.

"Derek?" I finally found myself saying.

At first, only silence met my ears, the lack of expression nearly causing me to nervously hang up the phone and try someone, anyone else instead of him. But, just as the idea crossed my mind, he quietly said, "Jane. I…I thought we agreed—"

"Please, Derek," I interrupted him, unwilling to have him push me away, not right now. My trembling fingers reached up to my pale cheeks, making sure that this wasn't all a horrible nightmare. When my touch eventually registered, I forced myself to shakily continue, "I need you right now. My apartment…I don't know what to do. I just…I need your help." Fresh tears abruptly budded in my eyes, embarrassment causing a blush to rush to my cheeks as I found myself close to sobbing into my phone.

Once more, Derek paused, the silence only filling me with my humiliation as I audibly sniffled and waited for him to say something, anything. Just when I was about to repeat his name, his quiet, firm voice filled my ear once more as he said, "I'm on my way."

* * *

**And that is our chapter! I'm sorry it took a little bit more time than I expected—I just really needed to my schoolwork done before I turned back to this story. But I hope you all enjoyed it. Please don't forget to leave a review and let me know what you thought. Thank you so much for reading!**


	2. Chapter Two

**Thank you all so much for the wonderful words you left behind after reading the first chapter of this story. I'm so sorry that it took me so long to come up with this chapter—I've been having some issues with school, so I was a little distracted and not able to sit down at my computer. Also, I wanted to add that, if any of you are interested, I would love if someone could create a graphic for this story. It would make me super happy. (: Well, without further ado, here is the next installment of "Howl":**

**Favorite Line:**

"_You'll get through it, Jane. You always do."_

* * *

Milk? In the refrigerator on the top shelf.

Sliced white bread? On the first level of the cabinet to the left of the sink.

Carton of strawberry ice cream? In the deepest, darkest corner of the freezer so that I wouldn't be so easily tempted.

Determinably I pushed myself to purposefully place all of my groceries back in their rightful places, hoping that the menial task would help stem my trembling fingers. Unfortunately, after stowing a head of lettuce in the vegetable drawer of my refrigerator, I found myself nearing the bottom of my last grocery bag and running out of a feasible distraction. At my hesitation, my hands clenched into shaking fists, nails squeezing sharply into my flesh. Swallowing the abrupt lump forming in the back of my throat, I shoved away the instant fear of having to face both the damage to my apartment and my eventual guest and continued the mind-numbing process.

When a plastic bag of frozen vegetables jolted my bare skin with its icy chill, the jolt that rushed through me forced the bag to slip through my fingers and clatter to the linoleum floor. Silently cursing myself, I stooped down and picked up the bag, hoping that the coolness would wake me from this nightmare and calm my nerves. Unfortunately, all I was left with was shivering hands and sore knees. Sighing, I pressed my wrist to my aching forehead and tried to figure out what was happening.

The last couple of months, while rather hectic, had been _normal_. Sure, I had moved out of my grandparents' house and finally begun my independent life as a college student—I had even started my job at Beacon Hills Hospital barely a month ago, sure that the hectic schedule would easily distract me from any issues in my personal life. They had been supernatural free, void of any longing for adventure or danger. The only thought that continued to haunt my mind was if Derek was safe, and even that I was continuing to push out of my head. But now, whoever had ransacked my apartment had completely eviscerated that progress.

Two quiet knocks at my front door instantly froze my hesitant breaths, forcing me to continue kneeling on the hard, cold linoleum for just a single moment before heaving myself onto my shaky legs. Numbly I reached for my handgun, preparing myself for putting a bullet in the head of any unexpected guest. I strode slowly to foyer, making sure the door chain was still lodged tightly into the slot nailed to the door frame. My trembling fingers reached forward for the smooth, metal door knob, fear abruptly ripping through my stomach and threatening to strangle me. Even if it was only Derek on the other side of that door, was I really ready to face him? It would be the first time in more than two months that I would be seeing him; after all the progress I had made, after my struggles to place him out of my life, it would all crumble in one second. Maybe calling him had been a mistake; maybe—

"Jane, it's alright. It's just me."

At the sound of his deep, calm voice, all my reservations about seeing him dissipated in an instant. Shakily I undid the door chain and swiftly pulled the door wide open.

He had changed. Even after only a couple months, in an instant it was obvious that there was something different about the Derek Hale who was standing right before me. Thick, dark stubble crept over his strong jaw, prickling my sensitive skin without even brushing my fingertips over it. If possible, he looked even older than his years, deep circles etched into the soft flesh under his deep green eyes. But, even with the long months that had changed him, he was still the same Derek Hale that could turn my insides right out. Piercing, forest green eyes narrowed down at me as soon as I slid the door open, unreadable even to the sharpest of minds. Thick, slightly damp, jet black hair clung to his forehead, hinting to the possibility that it had finally begun to rain outside. That familiar black leather jacket was draped over his broad shoulders, raindrops beading on the cracked, smooth material, his clenched fists shoved deep into the pockets.

As soon as my eyes met his, an explosion of emotions stirred deep within the pit of my stomach, my heart swelling and beating so loudly that I was positive Derek could hear it. Fear and outright joy, depression and anxiety blanketed my entire being, but barely any of it registered initially as I struggled to simply part my lips to say something, anything to him. All I could bring myself to do was gape up at him, completely stalled by utter shock of seeing him.

"Hi," I finally found myself saying rather lamely, my limbs suddenly hanging awkwardly by my sides.

Derek silently nodded at me, perhaps not as emotionless as he seemed. Farther down the corridor, a heavy door slammed shut, startling me so abruptly that I visibly jumped. When the tense silence continued to linger, Derek cocked an eyebrow and said quietly, "Are you going to invite me in?"

Again I jumped, but this time there was only silence surrounding the threshold. Hurriedly I stepped out of the way so Derek could pass through the doorway and into my apartment. Instincts forced my arms to cross over my chest as I mutely followed him through the hallway and watched as he stepped into the living room. Growing uncomfortable with his unwillingness to say anything, I found myself saying, "When I called…I wasn't sure if you'd come."

"You sounded upset," replied Derek, his back turned to me as he cast a glance around the living room. "And I figured you wouldn't call if it wasn't something important."

Nodding despite the fact that his back was still facing me, I leaned against the archway and wished that there was something that could help distract me. Unfortunately, I wasn't really able to start cleaning up the debris scattered around my apartment until Derek left, since any movement would most likely disrupt the scents and clues left behind. Until then, I was forced to simply watch as Derek took a few cautious steps through my living room and hesitated at the sight of my bookcase.

"How did you know where my apartment was?" I couldn't help but ask him, the nagging question abruptly beginning to weigh on me. I most certainly hadn't told him that I had moved, let alone which building I had moved into. And yet, despite my overlooking of actually informing him of my address, Derek had managed to arrive at my doorstep in little time.

Derek halted his movements before casting a glance over his shoulder at me, his eyes narrowing on my uncomfortable form for just a moment before turning away. Instead of answering my question, he began, "Whoever your intruder was, he definitely wasn't human, and he probably wasn't that smart. I practically caught his scent before you even opened your door. And his movements are…erratic, like he wasn't really sure of what he was looking for."

Biting my lip as I struggled to comprehend just what Derek was saying, I met his gaze and told him, "He wasn't just in here. He went…he went into my bedroom."

In an instant, Derek's brow furrowed as he silently studied my face. As his gaze slipped away to the hallway leading to my bedroom, I found myself continuing to watch him and struggling to decipher the emotions cast on his handsome face. Even when I was positive I knew him quite well, I still couldn't quite read his face half as well as he could read mine. Derek abruptly glanced over at me and, after catching the puzzled expression flitting across my face, his jaw clenched and he wordlessly strode towards the hallway. With a soft sigh, I followed him.

The top two of my bureau drawers had been dragged out, the garments tucked neatly away now rifled through and littering the wooden floors spanning from underneath my tennis shoes. Despite the situation, I found myself flushing as I realized a few of my panties had been strewn about, but Derek paid no notice to them and instead focused on my bed. My sheets were a tangled disaster, and obviously someone had rifled through my bed for God knows what reason. Just the sight of the mess forced me to cringe in embarrassment.

"Well," Derek said as soon as I crossed the threshold into my bedroom and stumbled upon him wrenching a hard stare onto my messy bed, "I think I found out what he was looking for."

"And what is that?" I asked him, completely lost.

Refusing to meet my gaze by continuing to glare down at my bed, Derek replied shortly, "Me." Catching my blank stare, he continued, "Whenever there's a new Alpha, some Omega werewolves—lone wolves—will come out of the woodwork in hopes of joining the new pack. This one, apparently, decided to find me by ransacking your apartment. Not exactly the smartest idea, but he's certainly made himself noticeable."

Even though I completely understood what Derek was telling me, I still shook my head as I took a tentative step towards him, hoping he would finally meet my gaze and actually acknowledge that I was standing only a couple steps away from him. However, when he refused to, I forced myself to ask him, "But why, Derek? It makes no sense. I haven't seen you in months—the whole reason we agreed to…to go our different ways was so that no one would be able to make that connection. Why would this person come to my apartment—my living room, my _bedroom_—in search of you?"

"Your mattress," he replied simply, his eyes narrowing into a harsh, full-on glare now at my twisted, tangled cream-colored sheets and pale yellow quilt. "Even though it's not strong, my scent is still encased in it. It must have sunk into the mattress when…well, you know."

Derek finally wound his neck around to blink down at me and, in that brief moment, my stomach coiled into tight knots and an immense rush of blood flooded my head and reddened my already pink cheeks. Dizziness and nausea engulfed my system, my trembling knees nearly crumbling underneath me and forcing me to tumble down the ground. Sucking in a sharp breath of cold air, I stubbornly pressed my palm onto the nearby wall, allowing to me stay afloat for just a little bit longer.

Catching Derek's startled expression, I firmly told him as I dug my knuckles into my throbbing forehead, "I'm fine. Just…a little dizzy."

Despite my stubborn words, Derek hardly looked convinced as he reluctantly nodded. Sighing, he eventually said, "I should be able to track him, thanks to his lackluster ability to mask his scent. He won't come anywhere near here again, I can promise you that." Catching the deep wrinkles embedding themselves into my forehead, he added in a slightly gentler voice, "You should probably stay with your grandparents—it'll help you sleep if you're not alone."

Even as he was suggesting this, I immediately knew it would never happen. If this Omega was circling my apartment in hopes of catching a glimpse of the mysterious Alpha, I was hardly going to flee to my grandparents' home and bring danger right to the unsuspecting doorstep. "I'll be fine here," I replied quietly. "I need to clean this place up, and I'm used to not getting much sleep during the night."

Of course, Derek did not overlook the last section of my response to his suggestion. Fortunately, he only cast his striking stare upon my reluctant face for just a moment before turning it to my bedroom. As his gaze lingered on the picture frames placed on my nightstand, he parted his lips to say something, but then they formed a rigid, straight line. With a shake of his head, Derek began to stride towards my door.

At the thought of him leaving, an abrupt sensation of foreboding filled my stomach and my heart threatened to leap into my throat. Hurriedly, I took a determined step after him and said nervously, "So, how have you been?"

Abruptly Derek froze. My breath clogged my throat, rendering me mute as, his back still turned to me, Derek softly said, "Don't do this, Jane."

"Don't do what?" I tentatively asked.

"Make this any harder than it already is," he responded shortly, irritation twisting his voice as he spun around on his heel and glared down at me. "This isn't easy for me either, but you can't just…you can't try to push yourself back into my life. You need to put some effort into staying away from me."

"Push myself—" I struggled to repeat, unable to believe what Derek had just thrown directly into my face. Fury licked at my insides as I clenched my fists, cheeks flushed in anger, and said sharply, "That is _not _what I was doing, Derek. I haven't seen you in months—no word from you, nothing that gives me even the slightest hint that you're safe. But I respected you for that. I've been trying to move on with my life. I got a new job, started college classes; I was actually doing fairly well until all of _this _happened." I waved my arms around, trying to force him to see the damage that had been forced onto my home.

"If you were so determined not to see me, to move on, why did you call me in the first place?" Derek demanded harshly. "As soon as you stepped into this place, you should've called your uncle, the sheriff of the entire town! Instead, you called me first. Why? Why bother when you're supposed to be staying away from me?!"

"Because I trust you!" I practically shouted, unable to believe what I was hearing. "Out of everyone in this town, you are the only person I can actually trust with my life, Derek! When I got scared by the fact that my home had been trashed my some stranger—that my bedroom had been broken into and the place where I try to sleep had been destroyed—I turned to the one person I trust. I'm s_o _sorry for actually trusting you."

Initially Derek said nothing after my outburst, only narrowing his eyes down at me and clenching his jaw in poorly stifled rage. My gaze drifted down to his hands dangling by his sides, only to find them tightening into shaking fists for just a few moments before relaxing once more. Finally, just as I dragged my stare back to his face, he coolly said, "I'll track this Omega down. If you're in danger, I'll let you know. Otherwise, keep your head down, Jane. It's the only way you can stay safe."

Unwilling to let me respond, Derek turned on his heel and silently stormed out of my bedroom. A few moments later, the front door slammed shut, and I was left standing in the center of my room, clothes and shards of a broken heart scattered all around me. I refused to allow the tears budding in my eyes to fall. Instead, I stubbornly squeezed my eyes shut and, as soon as I was able to stifle the weak sobs struggling to creep from deep within my throat, I got to work.

* * *

For the past two months, my nights had been nothing short of miserable. Initially I had found myself waking up in the middle of the silent night with screams clogging my throat and visions of mile-high waves of crackling flames overtaking me still flashing right before my open eyes. A sickly sweet voice would hiss into my ear to not be so afraid of what the night could bring, but I stubbornly kept my eyes open, blearily blinking up at the bare ceiling as the late hours ticked by. Eventually the pattern created a harsh habit that forced me to stay awake each and every night, only allowing me a few hours of restless sleep in the early hours of the morning. As soon as my alarm would begin annoyingly buzzing, I would awaken and begin the day as if I hadn't just been haunted by visions of my past the entire night.

That night had been no different. It was only around two-thirty in the morning, after I had managed to make my apartment somewhat presentable, that I had stumbled onto my couch, curled up into a tight ball, and fallen into a light sleep. Despite my struggles to sleep, it took me quite a few minutes, in the late hours of the morning, to realize that someone was pounding loudly on my bedroom door and loudly calling my name.

Groggily I blinked open my eyes, the horrible memories from the night before rushing back to me as I cringed at the thought of them. Pressing my knuckles into my throbbing temples, I nearly forgot about the annoying person continuing to knock at my door, their muffled voice impossible to decipher.

Sighing, I shoved myself onto my feet and staggered towards the door. Despite the all-too familiar face peering up down at me through the peephole, it took me a couple moments to comprehend just who they were. Biting my lip nervously at the actual thought of seeing them, I sighed once more and, after undoing the locks, wrenched the door open.

"Good morning," grinned my uncle almost sheepishly at the sight of my undoubtedly horrid appearance. My greasy hair hung heavily past my shoulders and no doubt there were deep circles etched into the soft flesh underneath my tired eyes. My uncle, on the other hand, was dressed sharply in his sheriff's uniform, a tray of two Styrofoam cups held in his hand.

"Morning," I managed to weakly smile up at Uncle Jake, rubbing the sleep from my eyes and stepping out of the way so he could enter my apartment. "Sorry it took me so long to answer the door—I was still sleeping like, you know, normal people do at seven in the morning." The clock on my oven was practically mocking me as I shook my head at my uncle's odd ability to be a morning person.

"It wouldn't kill you to wake up a little bit early to see your favorite uncle," said Uncle Jake, pressing the Styrofoam cup that smelled suspiciously of soothing hot tea into my palms and beginning to search through my cabinets. Catching my blank stare down at my cup, his eyes softened as he asked gently, "Late night?"

"Yeah," I shrugged, shoving away my exhaustion to appear at least somewhat fine, for my uncle's sake at least. "Sorry, I've just been so busy with work and school and I guess it caught up to me last night. Thank you for the tea though—it already is making me feel so much better."

Uncle Jake shrugged off my appreciation and replied, "It's the least I could do after cancelling on you last night. I really am sorry about that."

"Don't worry about it," I said after a long swig of the sweltering hot tea. "How did your search go? Did you manage to find that missing girl yet?"

Sighing as he took a seat at my tiny, round dining room table, Uncle Jake responded, "I'm afraid not. It seemed she ran off into the forest in the middle of the night and now there's no sign of her at all. We need to find her before the end of the night—it's supposed to get to near freezing temperatures and she could freeze to death out there. Not to mention the animals out there—remember that mountain lion a few months ago? Who knows what else could be out there."

Nodding mutely, I cast my gaze down onto my tea and thought about the true animals that were out in that forest. Whoever this girl was, she didn't stand a chance if the truly evil ones managed to catch up to her. A soft sigh filtered through my lips as I thought of the one who had continued to haunt my thoughts the entire night, the same one who wanted nothing to do with me anymore.

Catching my sigh, Uncle Jake furrowed his brow and asked, "Really, what's going on, Jane? I know you're stressed, but I've seen you deal with much more stress before than this. There's something going on, I know you all too well. What is it?"

"It's…it's really nothing, Uncle Jake," I finally told him, hoping my calm smile would ease his nerves. However, when his frown only deepened, I reluctantly added, "It's just some issues at work. My schedule's been so hectic and I haven't really been able to sit down and get some of my homework done. I'm actually falling a little bit behind."

I felt horrible about having to lie to Uncle Jake, but surely it was better than giving him even a hint of the real truth—that I was still in love with a werewolf who was determined to keep me out of his life forever, even if it meant hurting me in the process. How well could that conversation actually go?

"You'll get through it, Jane," my uncle said, pulling me back to the present with his encouraging smile. "You always do. You've been through a lot in the past year and, if you can get through all of that, you can easily get through this. At least you don't have to worry about a crazy boyfriend or anything, right? Or any boys giving you trouble at school or work?"

At his obvious phishing expedition, I could barely stifle the bubble of laughter forming at my pressed lips. Shaking my head, I found myself chuckling as I replied with the worst lie of all, "Don't worry, Uncle Jake. There's absolutely no one in my life right now. You have nothing to worry about."

**And that is the end of this chapter! Hope you all enjoyed it! Please don't forget to leave a review behind and let me know what you think!**


	3. Chapter Three

**Before I begin, I first want to offer my condolences to the victims of the bombings that occurred last week at the Boston Marathon. Living less than an hour away from, in my honest opinion, the best city in the world, it truly has pained me to see what my city has gone through in the past week. My thoughts and prayers are with these victims and their families. **

**Now, I wish to thank you all so much for the incredible amount of feedback I've received since posting this sequel. You all are so vocal now, which thrills me and I could not be more thankful. So, thank you for keeping me on track with this story and keeping my muse at its highest. (: I'm going to introduce two new characters in this chapter, who you should most definitely keep an eye out for in future chapters. **

**Without further ado, here is the next installment of "Howl":**

**Favorite Line:**

_"I have to go see an old friend."_

* * *

"Jane Brown, come speak to me before you leave here today."

Short arms still struggling to shove my overstuffed binder into my backpack, I blinked up at the splintered, wooden desk that Professor Kohler was leaning against easily as my classmates hurriedly shuffled past him. Seeing as how they had just suffered through an hour and a half of a mind-numbingly dull lecture about the basics of thermodynamics, I didn't quite blame them for rushing out of that stiflingly warm classroom. It seemed that Professor Kohler took no notice to his desperate students—instead, his narrowed, steel gray eyes were focused on my face, still blankly staring back at him.

Fortunately snapping out of my confusion before I made an even bigger fool of myself, I clumsily zipped my backpack into an awkwardly lumpy shape and, shoving it onto my back, nervously stepped through the aisle of empty desks. Even though we were nearing the last quarter of our semester, I had been fortunate enough to avoid speaking one-on-one with Professor Kohler about my Advanced Chemistry class. That is, up until now.

At first glance, Professor Kohler could easily be judged as a laid-back, easygoing instructor who would have no problem giving his students a break—even on the hottest of days he would dress in a black leather jacket, cracked from weather and use. Thick, long chestnut brown hair brushed against the back of his neck and a silver-streaked beard stretched across his strong jaw. However, Professor Kohler was not such an easy instructor—in fact, he had to be one of the most intimidating professors I had ever had the luxury of learning from. His lectures were twisted and exceptionally complicated, leaving me with no choice but to furiously jot down my scribbled notes as I struggled to keep up during each and every class. He would randomly sprout off tricky questions to any student who dared to daydream during his lectures and, if answered incorrectly, would be sure to force the poor student to suffer through the most horrendous of humiliations. And who could forget that steely, stern gaze that could turn any student inside out in the blink of an eye? Fortunately, I was able to control my nerves as I timidly approached Kohler's desk, ignoring the curious glances of my fellow classmates thrown in my direction.

At first, Professor Kohler said nothing, instead rifling through the folders and binders stuffed into his cracked, brown leather satchel and keeping his eyes narrowed away from my face. Forcefully I chewed my bottom lip as I anxiously waited for whatever had to say, but it seemed that he was going to make me wait on the edge of my seat for just a tad bit longer. Finally, unable to delay our dreaded conversation much longer, I quietly asked, "Is there something wrong, Professor?"

"I'm not sure," replied Kohler initially, his stern brow furrowing as he plucked a packet of papers from his bag and scanning over the front page, continuing to refuse to meet my gaze. Even with my short stature, I was instantly able to catch sight of the plain typed font of my name, an instant tipoff of just what we would be discussing. Before I could contemplate how my latest paper could possibly have forced Kohler to have a private chat with me, he glanced up at the uncomfortable expression planted on my face and said, "I was looking over your paper last night and, I have to say, I'm a bit disappointed."

Blinking up at him in blank surprise, I immediately thought back to the paper in question, only to vaguely recall how that had been the first time I hadn't been completely sleep-deprived since I had begun that class. For once I had been able to write a fairly decent paper on the reaction mechanism, or so I had thought. Now that I gazed up at Kohler, however, I wasn't so positive that I had done such a great job. Forcing myself to not anxiously fidget with my fingers, I slowly asked, "Was there something off with my paper?"

"Yes," he said bluntly. "I have to say, your past work has been halfway decent at best, and I wasn't all that impressed with you as one of my students. Sure, your work on the last exam was satisfactory, but it wasn't enough to blow me away. But, this paper…Jane, I am disappointed because your paper shows how impressive your work could be if you put some actual effort into it."

Perhaps it was the stifling heat that was triggering sweat to sprout underneath my arms or my dreading of my late shift at the hospital that night, but for some reason it didn't quite click in my mind what Professor Kohler was trying to insinuate to me. Rather stupidly I continued to blink up at him for a couple moments until his words began to register in my mind. Kohler was actually…c_omplimenting _me on my work? Finally, after flushing deeply at the sight of the older man cocking his eyebrow almost impatiently at my lack of response, I managed to say honestly, "I-I don't know what to say, Professor Kohler."

"You have talent with writing, there's no denying that," said Kohler, casting a long glance down at my paper before returning his gaze to my face. "You must have had some writing classes in high school, or maybe even some personal lessons?"

Almost snorting at the thought of having the time to take personal lessons, I shook my head and responded, "Just a lot of reading, I'm afraid."

Initially Professor Kohler didn't seem to want to accept my answer—for an instant I actually believed he had been expecting something else entirely. However, before I could dwell on this, he swiftly nodded.

"Do you work?" he asked me abruptly after taking a second to flip through my paper once more. His intense, steely gaze narrowed down at me as he impatiently waited for my response.

"Yes," I stammered, frustrated with how nervous Kohler was making me with complete ease. It would seem that his conversations were just as twisted as his lectures. Swallowing the uncomfortable sensation whole, I tipped my chin up stubbornly and said in a calm voice, "I work as a unit clerk at Beacon Hills Hospital. I'm a Nursing major here so I figured it'd be best to have a job at—"

"Sure, sure," Kohler interrupted me, already turning to his heavy, brown leather satchel and heaving it over his shoulder. The soft jingle of keys hinted that this class was his last, just as it was mine. Catching my surprised expression, he visibly hesitated before saying, "Listen, Jane, I know it's tough working and going to school. When I was your age, I had to juggle two jobs with night school just to get my teaching degree. But you have to make sure that you find a balance between the two, or else you'll fail completely. And now that I've seen what kind of work you can turn in, I expect all of your papers to be at this caliber. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," I nodded obediently, oddly feeling almost relieved by his honest words. "Thank you, Professor Kohler."

Kohler simply offered me a silent, curt nod before striding out of the classroom, his head ducked down as he roamed out into hoard of freshly freed college students. Unable to stifle my sigh at the unexpected conversation I had just underwent with the one professor who truly intimidated me, I ventured out into the same corridor.

The one perk about suffering through Advanced Chemistry for an hour and a half was the knowledge that I would finally be able to go home after the horrid class. After I slipped through the front doors of the school building, the warmth of the sunshine brushed against my face and heated my skin. Beacon Hills Community College may not have been my first or second choice when I had first begun looking at colleges back in Maine, but it certainly was quite a good fit for me. The tiny campus was easy to navigate, and the courses I had registered for were actually rather impressive for just a community college. It was just a relief that finally _something _was falling in line in my life.

"Jane! Hey, Jane!"

My shoulders instantly seizing in surprise at the abrupt calling of my name, I twisted my neck around quickly in search of who could possibly be looking for me, my feet cemented to the hot pavement. With my busy schedule, it was a little difficult to keep in touch with the few friends I had managed to make on campus. Sure, there were a couple people who I managed to talk to in passing, but it was far too difficult with my classes and work to really sit down and have a good time with anyone.

When my eyes settled on a familiar, brightly smiling face, I couldn't help but notice how the tension embedded within my shoulders slackened almost immediately at the sight of tall, lanky Gavin Johnson bounding towards me. The wind ruffled the short strands of his golden brown hair, the sunlight forming a gleaming halo around the crown of his head, giving him a wind-swept look when he finally reached me. Offering me a wide, crooked grin as he lightly panted from his short sprint to me, Gavin said, "Hey."

"Hi," I replied just as warmly. "How have you been?"

"Been alright," he shrugged nonchalantly. "We missed you on Friday night. It wasn't quite the same without you."

It was the fourth night after I had been awoken by my grandmother furiously shaking my shoulders, her bony fingers clenching my arms so tightly that they left tiny bruises behind in the morning. Dried tears would be pasted to my sweaty cheeks and my body would be trembling so violently that I was sure I was going to lose consciousness. Nana, after talking to both my grandfather and my uncle, had told me that I needed to find someone to talk to about these nightmares, to find out why I would spend my nights shrieking at the top of my lungs for someone, anyone to help. Of course, no one in my family, besides Stiles of course, knew about what had happened the night that I had been kidnapped, but even my relatives could tell that something had changed within me. They were desperate to find any method of bringing my old self back to them. It was only when I had stumbled on an ad in the local newspaper for a female-only self-defense class being held at a nearby gym that I actually felt a chance for change—a chance for improvement.

Most of the girls at these self-defense classes were around my age, with only a couple in their late twenties. Even the instructor was a stern, older woman, with her short, copper hair and strong, weathered hands. The only male allowed into the entire class was the practice dummy, a young man who also attended Beacon Hills Community College who, despite his job of taking kicks and punches into his bright red, soft rubber padding on a regular basis, used his sunny disposition and teasing jokes to always lighten the mood. It was Gavin's warm smile and easy personality that truly drew me into the class and pushed me to continue attending the meetings each and every Friday night for the past month now. I had even discovered a change in my body from the regular exercise: I was no longer as winded as I used to be by taking the three flights of stairs to some of my classes during the day, and some of the softness around my cheeks had disappeared completely. Last Friday night had been the first time I had missed a class, thanks to my forgotten plans for dinner with my uncle and the eventual break-in at my apartment.

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that," I said to Gavin now, hiking my backpack higher over my shoulder and squinting through the sunlight up into his pale, sky blue eyes. "Something came up and, to be honest, I really needed a break after work last week. It was…well, it was a really long week."

"Don't worry about it," he replied easily, his crooked grin never waning. "Lauren was just disappointed that she didn't have her partner in crime to team up against me like always."

Laughing at the thought of the mousy blonde who, despite her shy, timid nature had one heck of a right hook, I said, "Well, I'm guessing you weren't too upset to not see me Friday night, then." I began to take small steps toward the parking lot, hoping that I would be able to start nearing my car. Fortunately, Gavin took the subtle hint and began walking with me.

"Come on, you know that's not true," he said. "You're one of my favorite people there. Even if your punches are surprisingly strong."

"Surprisingly?" I repeated indignantly despite my amused smile. "Just because I'm on the shorter side doesn't mean that I'm weak."

"On the shorter side?" repeated Gavin with an incredulous scoff. "You're like a dwarf compared to me."

"I'm sorry to break it to you, Gavin, but everyone is a dwarf compared to you," I shot back at him, dramatically craning my neck so I could look up at his smirking face.

He simply laughed good-naturedly, shaking his head just as a jostling group of guys talking loudly about their plans to get absolutely wasted that night rushed past us. In hopes of avoiding being flattened by them, I shifted closer to Gavin, so much so that my shoulder brushed against his bare bicep. Out of the corner of my eye I caught him glancing down at me in surprise, but I was too concerned with rolling my eyes that I barely noticed the expression on his face.

"So," said Gavin eventually as I moved away from him and finally spotted my car in the sea of vehicles, "a few of my friends and I were planning on going to a party tonight."

"Oh, that should be fun," I replied distractedly, preoccupying myself with digging through my backpack for my car keys.

"Would you…want to come along?"

"Hmm?" I asked, not exactly paying complete attention to whatever it was he was hinting around at. I had just managed to find my keys, jingling them lightly as I snatched them from my backpack and returned my warm gaze back to Gavin's oddly hopeful face. "I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch what you said."

"Would you…never mind," he replied abruptly, shaking his head and reaching back to rub the back of his neck. The gesture was so achingly familiar that a light blush reached my pale cheeks and my grip around my keys tightened so harshly that the jagged metal began to etch itself into the sensitive skin of my palm. Catching my abrupt change, Gavin asked concernedly, "Are you alright, Jane?"

"Yeah, yeah," I said softly, shaking the cobwebs from my mind and smiling weakly up at him. "It's nothing, I'm just a little tired, that's all."

Gavin hardly looked convinced, but he slowly nodded before saying, "Well, I guess I'll see you Friday night. You will show up this time, right?"

"I will, I promise," I laughed, smiling brightly just as we finally reached my car. "Have fun at that party, by the way. I'm sure you'll have a great time."

A strange expression flitted across Gavin's face, but it vanished as soon as I caught it. Instead, he just grinned and waved before walking over to his own pickup truck parked a few spaces away from mine. Shaking my concern for his odd behavior from my mind, I climbed into my car and started the ignition, just ready for my shift that night to finally be over.

* * *

The one part of my job that nearly everyone despised was organizing the filing room centered behind the front desk of the hospital's front desk. My co-workers would complain of the dried, flaky skin that would cake itself on their palms and the papercuts riddling their fingers, not to mention the sheer boredom they would suffer from while simply going through fresh paperwork needing to be filed away. I, on the other hand, would never admit to a single soul inside that hospital that I actually rather enjoyed the whole process of filing. In fact, it might have been one of my favorite ways to pass through my shift.

On that afternoon, I settled myself into a corner directly under the obnoxiously bright fluorescent lights with a tall stack of papers that had been filled out by doctors, nurses, administrators, and everyone else who worked in that hospital just that day. Sitting cross-legged and ignoring the stiffening of my limbs, I slowly got to work, allowing the repetition and easy work to allow my mind to slowly drift away. The soft groan of the heat kicking on cast a soft, warm gust of air on the back of my bare neck nearly put me to sleep, but I forced my heavy eyelids to remain open as I continued to file the paperwork away. Soon my thoughts drifted away from my task to the strange occurrences that had happened lately in my life.

Ever since my apartment had been broken into, I found it even more difficult to sleep late at night. With each tiny noise of a lone car driving past my locked bedroom window or someone slipping down the corridor outside my front door to their own apartment, my mind would instantly become alert, my wide eyes casting frantic glances all around my dark bedroom. After the thick, deafening silence would slowly calm my nerves, I would lay my head upon my brand new pillow, my thoughts drifting off to work, my classes, or the dreaded topic of one Derek Hale.

To no one's surprise, I hadn't heard a single peep from Derek since he had stormed out of my apartment a few days before. Apparently he had either found the werewolf who had managed to completely destroy my apartment, or deemed my situation safe enough for him to leave me alone once and for all. Seeing him had brought back so many feelings that I had been positive were buried deep within me, feelings that I had hoped would eventually disappear. Perhaps I had brought the reawakening of my caring for him on myself, since I had been the one to call him in the first place. But I had told him the honest truth—there was no one I trusted more with my life than him, no one in this world. The only problem was that this trust was going to get my heart broken all over again.

The door to the filing room abruptly opened, the loud clicking noise nearly causing me to jump out of my skin. With wide eyes I blinked up as Melissa McCall slipped into the room, her arms filled with about fifteen manila folders. Slowly her gaze met mine and she offered me a warm smile before saying, "How's it going in here, Jane? Have you died from boredom just yet?"

Flushing as I secretly thought of how much I actually enjoyed the whole process, I stubbornly said, "It's not all that bad. At least I get some quiet time to think, right?"

"Yeah, I guess so," said Melissa after a moment of flicking through the folders and stepping towards a stainless steel file cabinet. "Hey, did you hear about what happened at Beacon Hills _Cemetery earlier this week?"_

Distracted by the corner of the packet of papers I had been holding slicing into the tip of my thumb, I sucked the blood from my finger before glancing up at her curiously. Shaking my head, I replied, "No, I haven't really had a chance to sit down and watch the news. What happened?"

"Either an animal or some psychopath dug up one of the coffins buried there and took only one organ from the body—a liver. I guess some boy was working there, but he didn't see a single thing. Just think—someone actually wanting a liver." Melissa made a disgusted face, grimacing as she added, "Apparently the cops have no idea what they're looking at it, and I don't really blame them. Who would possibly dig up a liver?"

While Melissa shook her head and went back to sticking her files back in their rightful places, I found myself gazing dreamily at the only window, sunlight streaming through the dusty glass. What if it wasn't just some psychopath who had managed to dig up a _liver _of all organs, but something a bit more…supernatural? Surely there had to be something more to this story, something that I wasn't quite seeing. And some boy…some boy at the cemetery…

"Jane?" asked Melissa abruptly, apparently catching the wide-eyed expression on my face just as she turned around. Blinking up at her in surprise, she asked me, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I just…I just realized I have to do something tomorrow," I eventually replied. "I have to go see an old friend."

* * *

**And that is the end of this chapter. I know, I know, no Derek—I promise you, he will be coming up eventually. Oh, and please don't forget to leave a review and let me know what you all thought!**


	4. Chapter Four

**I truly am sorry that it has taken me so long to keep up with these updates. Last weekend I found out that my uncle had passed away, so I've been a little preoccupied with drama in my real life. Thank you all for being so patient with me, and understanding that sometimes it takes a little time for me to get back on track when it comes to my writing. Fortunately, after some time of mourning and getting my head back on straight, I've finally been able to sit down and start on this story once more. Well, without further ado, here is the next installment of "Howl":**

**Favorite Line:**

"_And if you try to track me down and force me to do anything ever again…well, I wouldn't want to bruise that pretty face of yours."_

* * *

Even as I stepped through the front sliding glass doors of Beacon Hills Hospital, my back was still throbbing in agony with each of my slow movements. I winced as I sharply dug my fingertips into my side, hoping that the massage would help relieve some of the tension built up in my back. The one bad part about being holed up in the dusty filing room for an entire shift, besides continuously sneezing for hours on end, had been having no choice but to sit on the cold, hard tiled floor. By the end of my shift, pins and needles were shooting up and down my cramped legs and my entire back had stiffened. Unfortunately, it would take more than a few labored steps to the staff locker room and my eventual departure from the hospital to dissipate the pain shrouded in my lower back.

At least it's a beautiful day, I managed to think positively as I glanced around the crowded employee parking lot. The dull gray clouds that had hung heavily above Beacon Hills for days now had finally vanished, revealing the crystal clear blue sky and a beaming sun. All day I had caught people wearing shorts with hemlines that were hardly conservative and tank tops that bared the all too common clear, tanned skin of Californians. Being a true New Englander, my skin was rendered pale practically year-round, or perhaps the occasional pink from searing sunburns. So, for obvious reasons, I wasn't all that comfortable baring too much skin this early into the warm spring.

Unfortunately, instead of laying outside on my balcony with a book and soak in some much-needed sun, I would be forced to travel in the opposite direction of my apartment in order to retrieve some answers. As I had sat cross-legged in that cramped filing room, my mind had drifted to the task that lay before me. I was tired of relying on others to give me information on what was happening in this town—for once, I was going to find out on my own, even if a certain someone would much rather me stay shrouded in darkness.

Mind still revolving around just where I was planning on driving to, I hardly noticed the oddly familiar face blatantly watching my every movement. It was only when I glanced up from my purse, car keys clutched in my fingers, that I noticed the boy leaning against the trunk of my car. A rich, brown leather jacket that probably cost more than my entire month's rent was draped over his shoulders, an impatient frown belittling his blatantly handsome face. While the boy was no doubt quite striking and could easily charm any girl into letting her guard down, there was something rather unsettling about his sheer cockiness as he glared down at me. It was this arrogance that reminded me just who this was.

"Jackson," I said uncertainly despite how positive I knew just who this strange boy that was leaning lazily against my car was. The last time I had seen Jackson Whittemore, Peter Hale was just moments from being shrouded in flames and Derek was still simply a Beta. Even though it had only been a few months ago, it felt like ages had passed by since that night.

"Jane Brown," smirked Jackson, straightening up and peeking over the top of his ridiculously expensive sunglasses. "You're a hard girl to track down, you know that?"

Recognizing the strangely instant surge of dislike I had for this boy I had never truly spoken to, I tipped my chin up in the air almost stubbornly and frowned up at him. "I didn't realize anyone was trying to track me down," I replied coolly as I unlocked my passenger door and placed my bags onto the seat.

"With your connections, it would probably be best for you to always assume someone is tracking you down," Jackson said with, no doubt, a wide smirk.

Still bent over to search through my tote bag for my written directions for the cemetery and ignoring his poorly disguised warning, I asked him, "What can I do for you, Jackson?"

The condescending laugh that emitted from the back of Jackson's throat instantly caused my spine to stiffen and my eyes to narrow down into my tote bag, praying that I can hurry up and find this paper so I can leave. I had no idea, but I did _not _like this boy, not one bit. Ignoring my obvious disdain, he said bluntly, "You need to talk to your boyfriend about why his bite didn't work."

In an instant, I froze, the soft curves of my handwriting blurring into a single line as I blankly gazed down at my written directions. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out just who Jackson was speaking of, but that wasn't what completely floored me—it was the fact that Derek had already begun building his pack, and he had begun with this truly unlikable, spoiled boy. But, from what Jackson had said, it seemed that Derek's bite hadn't worked to Jackson's fullest advantage.

Slowly I straightened my back, paper clutched tightly in my white-knuckled fist as I turned on my heel and blinked up at Jackson, who seemed unfazed by my surprise. Unwilling to give into the patronizing smirk spread across his handsome face, I quietly said as I slammed my passenger door shut, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

In a perfect world, Jackson would have pleasantly accepted my response, gone off on his merry way, and left me to focus on getting to Beacon Hills Cemetery. Unfortunately, this world was hardly perfect; just as I moved to swerve around the arrogant boy, his hand whipped out and grabbed ahold of my forearm. As I struggled to avoid allowing him see me wince as I tried to tug out of his painfully tight grip, he breathed coldly down at me, "Now you listen to me. Derek owes me for helping him kill Peter and making him an Alpha. The least he could do is…give me an explanation as to why his bite never worked and I'm still human—"

I'd heard more than enough from this snake. All of my pent-up frustration from how Derek had treated me a few nights ago and the fact that my apartment was completely trashed thanks to my previous involvement with him was finally boiling over to a point that I couldn't easily return from. Giving up on trying to escape from his grasp, I pushed myself closer to his chest and raised my knee sharply into his lower stomach. The low blow had the desired effect I'd been hoping for—Jackson instantly dropped his grip on my forearm and hunched over, cradling his hopefully exceptionally excruciating injury as he took a step back and leaned against the car parked beside mine.

Checking to make sure that he hadn't bruised my pale skin too badly, I glanced down at Jackson and kneeled down so that we were finally eye-to-eye. Once his pale, crystal blue eyes were narrowed up at me, I calmly told him, "Now _you _listen to _me_, Jackson. Derek does not owe you anything, especially a bite that, let's be honest, you absolutely do not deserve. And, if you have a problem with Derek, don't come running to me. I am neither his girlfriend, nor his friend anymore, and I am certainly not his messenger. Is that clear now?"

"Crystal clear," Jackson bit out, obviously still winded from my knee. Perhaps I had gone a tad bit lower than I had planned to when I'd struck him.

"Good," I smiled placidly. Before straightening, I added in an almost concerned tone, "And if you try to track me down and force me to do _anything _ever again…well, I wouldn't want to bruise that pretty face of yours."

Without giving him a second glance, I stood to my full, petite height and strode towards my driver's side door. In barely a moment, I reversed out of my parking spot and left Jackson's glaring, furious face far behind me as I drove away.

* * *

Beacon Hills Cemetery certainly looked rather different than the last time I had seen it. The lumpy piles of crisp, dead leaves had been scattered across the fields, and it had seemed that the caretakers weren't all that concerned with how much effort into the landscape of their cemetery. Considering the miniscule size of the plot of land and the lack of visitors each day, I couldn't exactly blame them.

However, it seemed that, with the abrupt center of attention on the tiny cemetery, the caretakers had decided to spruce the place up. The grass was freshly cut and shone a vivid shade of green, thriving with the help of fresh food and plenty of bright sunshine to coat it each and every day. Every shrub that I glanced at was neatly trimmed, the flowers of the occasional floral bush blooming beautifully and scattering the pathway with delicate petals. To the casual viewer, it would seem that the cemetery was going through any ordinary day of grieving, lonely visitors.

As I took a closer look at my surroundings, I caught sight of an all-too familiar shade of yellow flashing at me. In the distance, through the cover of a tall, fat oak tree, was a massive, dark yellow backhoe with its windows and windshield completely smashed in. The bright, vibrant yellow of the police tape was still loosely wrapped around a small square of land, the center consisting of a grave neatly dug out of the ground.

Shaking my head at the possibility of any human actually digging up a grave solely to retrieve the corpse's liver, I weaved through the parking lot and down the familiar path to worker's shack that I had visited only once before. This was where I was expecting to find the same boy who had been working that night when the liver had been stolen. But what I was truly hoping for was that this boy was the same one that I had met before, the kind one who had helped me find my mother's grave and seemed genuine enough to offer me some information about what had happened that night.

I peeked around the corner of the open doorway of the shack, relief flooding my insides as the sight of Isaac Lahey, dressed in a long-sleeved dark gray shirt and worn jeans with his windswept, wavy light brown hair, was bent of a lacrosse stick, fidgeting with the net. Gently I rapped my knuckles against the open door, allowing me to watch as Isaac visibly jumped and glanced up at me. For a brief moment, surprise and one other strange emotion that I had never seen before froze on Isaac's face before melting away into a small, startled smile.

"Jane," he said, resting his lacrosse stick against the wall behind him and turning to fully face me.

Isaac, in all honesty, hadn't changed a bit since I had last seen him a month ago, right before school ended. Despite our different years in high school, I had managed to run into him quite a few times, either in the corridor in between classes or when I passed by the bike rack after the school day had ended. Our conversations were hardly substantial, but it had been rather nice having someone friendly to talk to, considering how my past friendships had begun to crumble.

Even though only a month had passed by since I had left school, it was nice seeing that Isaac still looked the same. He was the same tall, gangly teenager that I remembered with light, sky blue eyes and curly waves of chestnut brown hair. Catching sight of his clear skin, I was jolted with the abrupt memory of the bruises that had been etched into the soft skin underneath those same eyes that blinked up at me now. Trying my best to swallow the abrupt guilt-ridden lump in the back of my throat, I managed to smile brightly up at him and say, "Hi."

"Hey," he replied, awkwardly studying his shoes for just a moment for some reason, as if he was avoiding my gaze. "What…what are you doing here?"

Mentally shaking his strange behavior from my mind, I said, "I just wanted to check up on you. I heard about what happened here a few nights ago and, well, I wanted to make sure you were alright."

Wrinkles sprouted in between Isaac's arched eyebrows as he said, "You heard about that? I thought the police were trying to keep that quiet from the public."

"People talk," I replied simply, shrugging my shoulders. After watching him nod for a couple moments, I added, "So…how are you, really?"

His pale cheeks abruptly flushing, he shrugged nonchalantly and replied, "I'm fine. It wasn't that big of a deal."

"I'm not sure about that," I said slowly. "Have you ever actually heard of someone digging up a grave just to steal a liver?"

"Well, no," said Isaac, shifting rather uncomfortably for some reason.

"Did you see who it was? Or what, maybe? I mean, what kind of animal digs up a decomposing body just to steal its liver, right?" I asked him, my eyes narrowing at him with each word that slipped from my mouth. For some reason, Isaac's odd behavior was setting off alarms throughout my body, but I couldn't quite tell what they were for. Surely I was missing something, but what?

Obviously growing too uncomfortable with the direction this conversation was taking, Isaac suddenly got to his feet, standing high above me, and said coolly, "I didn't see anything, Jane. Last time I checked, your uncle was looking into it. He _is_ the sheriff—why don't you ask him some questions?"

_Deflecting_, an all-too familiar voice was whispering into my ear. My father had been notorious for being able to make just about any criminal flip in the interrogation room, and he had even been able to teach me a few tips on picking up on any lies being spewed from anyone's mouth. Isaac was doing just that—desperately trying to change the subject to avoid the spotlight I had cast on him. Just as I narrowed my eyes at him, hoping for some hint as to why he was acting this way, Isaac shifted in his seat again, slightly grimacing as his arm brushed against the side of his torso. That same spot that was clad in the soft fabric of his dark gray shirt, I now noticed, had a small stain on it; the shade of it was a color that I was growing all-too familiar with at the hospital…

Without saying anything, I stepped forward, desperately hoping that this blood wasn't from a certain injury caused by something much bigger than any animal in all of California. Isaac, catching my gaze, instantly cupped his hand over the stained fabric and tried to reason with me by saying, "Jane, it's nothing. It's fine, just don't—"

Too late.

As soon as I was close enough, my fingers reached out and snatched the hem of Isaac's shirt. Ignoring his protests, I shoved it upward, revealing a crude bandage taped to his side. The masking tape seemed as if it had been picked at since it had last been changed, no doubt caused by from some itchiness from whatever wound had ravaged Isaac's side. Droplets of blood seeping through the pale white cloth formed a vague shape of a wide bite mark, one that could only come from the one Alpha that I knew all too well.

Instant rage flooded my body as I realized that Derek had found his next target for his growing pack. I immediately lost my grip on Isaac's shirt and took a step away from him, gaping up at his face and praying that I would find some inkling as to what to say, what to do. So many emotions were running through Isaac's own eyes that I couldn't catch any of them—they were all too manipulated to track down. Finally I tore my eyes away from his confused eyes and glanced down at his bloody shirt once more before quietly asking, "What bit you, Isaac?"

The response I received was not at all what I was expecting. A soft whisper slipped from in between Isaac's lips as he said, "You weren't supposed to find out about this."

All of the anger and rage pent up within me was suddenly doused in ice cold water as I blinked up at him in pure puzzlement. Slowly I managed to force my jaw to unclench and asked him, "How did you know that I had any…knowledge about what bit you? Is that why you were acting so…" I abruptly remembered all of his strange ticks and odd behavior from earlier, how he had struggled to avoid my gaze and kept shifting uncomfortably. "Who told you not to tell me, Isaac?" I finally asked him, although I had quite a good idea as to just what his answer would be.

"Derek said…" began Isaac, but I didn't want to hear any more.

Tipping my chin up stubbornly, I coolly said, "Where is Derek staying? I know he's not at his old house, since it would be foolish to try staying hidden there. Where is he, Isaac? You can tell me."

For his part, it was obvious that Isaac was hardly comfortable with giving up Derek's location to me. He kept rubbing the back of his neck and his jaw line, an action so familiar to me that it truly ached. However, under my narrowed stare, he eventually gave in and told me exactly where I could find his Alpha.

* * *

Despite living in Beacon Hills for almost six months now, there were still some sections of the town that I had never bothered to travel to. Like every town and city throughout the world, there are segments that one should most definitely avoid as much as possible, whether it be a ghetto or a truly dangerous part of town. In Portland, my father had drilled into me about never setting foot in the slums of the areas, especially considering he had witnessed the aftereffects of the heinous crimes that had taken place there. And in Beacon Hills, I continued to follow his advice, staying in the areas that were most familiar to me and that I knew were safe.

This day, however, I was forced to creep out of my comfort zone and take a short drive from the cemetery to the warehouse district. Colorful graffiti was spattered on the cement walls that I drove past, overflowing bags of trash littering the pavement. Just as I slowed down to abide by a stop sign, I caught a pair of guys only a few years older than myself dressed in baggy pants eyeing my car out of the corner of my eye. Determined to avoid the stifling sensation of panic to clutch at my throat, I allowed my deep breath to calm myself before stepping on the gas pedal and continuing on my way.

Isaac obviously hadn't been thrilled that I had found out about his connection to Derek, nor that I had managed to convince him to tell me just where to find him. "He told me not to tell anyone, Jane," he had warned me just as I made to leave the tiny shack that he was confined to. "He specifically mentioned you. Don't you think you should take that as a hint to, you know, leave him alone?"

Had I had been in a calm state of mind, perhaps I would've listened to Isaac's suggestion and given Derek's much-desired space. However, after finding that he had decided to give the bite to someone who was still practically a child, and then told said person to keep me completely in the dark, I wasn't in any mood to be calm. To be honest, inside I was practically livid, trembling with pent-up fury. How could Derek do something like this? Did he even bother telling Isaac about the hunters and the full moon and the endless list of dangers that comes with being a werewolf? No sane person would sign onto such a horrible way of life unless they were being kept in the dark about the serious dangers it entailed.

As I pulled in front of the train warehouse that Isaac had reluctantly described, I truly tried to restrain my anger towards what had happened seemingly overnight. But not even several long, deep breaths could stop my trembling fingers from gripping my steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles turned white. Fortunately I was able to use the excuse to rummage through my backseat for my flashlight to keep my shaking hands busy. As soon as my fingers stumbled on the cool metal, I closed my eyes and took one last hopefully calming breath. No such luck. Eventually I had no choice but to slip out of my car, rage still licking at my veins, and take several long, hurried steps toward the front door of the warehouse.

The building had obviously been deserted for many, many years. High, spanning windows were boarded up with peeling boards of dark wood while the bricks that formed the foundation of the building were faded and cracked from ware. Just as I reached my hand out for the iron door handle, I noticed the complete lack of dust or cluster of spider webs stuck to the rusted metal. It was the only hint that I had received that this building wasn't completely devoid of life, and it was what pushed me to clutch at the door knob, twist it and step forward into the darkness.

Determined not to allow my nerves get the best of me, I hastily switched on my flashlight, allowing the dull glow to cut through the swirling darkness and calm my racing heart. The boarded windows refused to permit any sunlight to creep into the foyer, obscuring most of my surroundings. Slowly I cast my flashlight around, catching sight of a wooden desk stained dark with a chunk missing from one of its legs along with high, black cement walls that spanned far above me. Eventually the stream of light fluttered down to the floor, which was blanketed by a thick layer of dust. Just as I turned to glance behind me, I suddenly noticed the faint shapes of footprints embedded in the dust, differing from the rest of the undisturbed grime. Furrowing my brow, I tentatively followed the prints to a door on the other side of the foyer left slightly ajar.

Not allowing myself to hesitate, I pushed the door open, wincing at the creak that resounded through the seemingly empty building. Behind the door was a long staircase leading into some sort of basement, one that I would typically try to avoid on a daily basis. However, my lingering anger towards Derek pushed me to descend down the steps and into the musty, humid basement. My grip around my flashlight was growing sweaty, the metal nearly slipping from my palms and tumbling loudly to the floor. Fortunately I was able to tighten my grip before I made my presence even more known that it most likely already was.

As soon as I stepped down onto the landing, I could feel the hot, sticky air settling onto the bare nape of my neck and causing sweat to bead on my forehead. The darkness was, if possible, even thicker down here, causing me to squint just to pick up on the stream of light emitting from my flashlight. The humidity was clogging the back of my throat, forcing my breath to come out in sharp spurts. Nonetheless, I pushed myself to take a determined step forward away from the staircase. It was only then that I felt the skin on the back of my neck to prickle and I realized that I was not as alone as I previously believed I was.

I didn't allow myself to predict who could possibly be standing at such a close proximity to me. There was no need to listen for their soft breaths or the occasional shift as they meticulously followed me wherever I stepped to. Instead, I kept my heartbeat to as slow and methodical as possible as I cast the beam of my flashlight around, acting to be interestedly studying the train car that had obviously been left behind when the building had fell into decay. Instead, I was actually using the flashlight to check for any shadows that could give me a hint as to where this person was hiding. Finally, I was able to catch just the slightest shape of a shadow reflected by my stalker just a hair behind me. It was enough proof to give me one last chance to think about my attack before rushing into action.

Abruptly I spun on my heel, raising my flashlight-wielding arm to blindly whack the person with the blunt object and preparing to retreat away to give me some space. Through the darkness, I could just barely see the hint of the tall, broad-shouldered outline of whoever had been shadowing me. It should have worked perfectly, if luck and the supernatural forces had been on my side. Instead, I managed to get one blow in on the person, a muffled gasp of surprise emitting from them for just a moment before a strong, iron-like grip was fastened around my right wrist, stifling any chance of my escape. Through the stagnant, dull glow of my flashlight, it was all too easy to see the achingly handsome, familiar, and quite furious face of one Derek Hale.

* * *

**And that's where I'm going to leave you all for now, even though I'm sure quite a bit of you will probably be as furious as Derek right now. (: I promise you, the next chapter will be full of Derek! Thank you so much for your continued patience and devotion to this story. I hope you all enjoyed and please don't forget to review!**


	5. Chapter Five

**Thank you all so much for your continued support for me. You have no idea how much I appreciate you all. (: I won't keep you all for long, I just wanted to let you know that I really hope you enjoy this chapter! **

**So, I'm hoping you all watched the first episode of season three last night. I won't give away any spoilers for those of you who haven't watched it yet, but I will say I really did enjoy it. There were a few characters I wished had some more air time, but hopefully they'll have some more spotlight available to them in the next episode. I'm so excited for this season though, it should be pretty incredible! **

**Without further ado, here is the next chapter of "Howl":**

**Favorite Line:**

"_When a spoiled rich boy who isn't exactly satisfied with your Alpha service comes to my work and threatens me, it absolutely does concern me."_

* * *

"You shouldn't be here, Jane."

Despite reluctantly finding myself rendered completely and utterly helpless in Derek's iron-like grip, I refused to surrender so easily. I struggled to pry myself from his tightly formed fist, which seemed to hardly hesitate to squeeze even tighter around my forearm. Ignoring his narrowed eyes, I glared at his hand and continued to wrench my hand free.

It didn't matter how angry Derek was with me—none of his rage could match mine towards him. Just at the thought that he had, once more, managed to drain all of my power from me caused my blood to boil. Blood red flashed before my eyes as I shoved my free hand into his chest, but it barely even made him budge back a half-step. As I raised my hand to repeat in vain to take another whack at him, his own free hand shot out and snatched my wrist. "Stop," he grunted coldly as I found myself uselessly struggling to free myself.

"Let me go," I snapped furiously, becoming more and more frustrated with my lack of strength when it came to the man standing before me. With my writhing becoming more and more of a nuisance to him, Derek dragged me closer to him, if only to gain control over his grip on me. When I found myself uncomfortably close to his chest, I snarled with thick emotion embarrassingly causing my voice to tremble, "I said let me go, Derek!"

Just as I went to wrench my arms out of his grasp once more, Derek's hands released me, nearly causing me to topple towards the cold, hard concrete floor. Fortunately I was able to catch my balance before I made an even bigger fool of myself. I blinked up at Derek just as I noticed him shoving his hands deep into jacket pockets, a strange expression flitting across his face that I couldn't seem to quite read. Mentally shaking the image from my mind, I glared up at him and coolly said, "Thank you."

Derek only narrowed his eyes down at me, hardly looking appreciative of my thanks. Abruptly he turned on his heel, taking quite a few long strides away from me as I caught the familiar movement of his hand reaching up to rub his jaw line. Just as I was about to take a step towards him, he quietly asked with his back still turned, "What are you doing here, Jane? How did you find out where I was hiding?"

The memory of Isaac's bite still fresh in my mind, I retorted shortly, "Oh, it was quite easy. All I had to do was ask your new Beta where to find his Alpha."

In an instant Derek's shoulders visibly stiffened, his motions halted completely as my words must have registered in his mind. Gradually my hesitation grew as his frozen stance seemed to span for hours, even though it was truly only for a few moments. Eventually Derek turned to face me, an unreadable expression splashed across his face as he coldly deadpanned, "You don't need to stick your nose in my business, Jane. It doesn't concern you anymore."

"Doesn't concern me?" I repeated incredulously, practically ready to spit the words right out of my mouth. "When a spoiled rich boy who isn't exactly satisfied with your Alpha service comes to my work and threatens me, it absolutely does concern me."

Derek's face froze, deep wrinkles eventually forming in between his heavy eyebrows as he asked, "What are you talking about? Did-"

"Jackson Whittemore?" I suggested to him, hoping the name would help jog his memory. Pent-up fury began to lash at my insides, fueling my heated words. "Remember him—the one you decided to bite for reasons I still don't understand. Well, apparently he was expecting a bit of a different transformation, and he's not happy. So his next bright idea was to come to my work and try to scare me into convincing you to find him and talk to him about whatever the hell happened to him."

"What did he do?" Derek asked quietly, his intense, forest green gaze intently watching me.

"Oh, nothing that bad," I waved my hand, catching the hidden anger beginning to creep into his voice instantly. "I'm thinking he's realizing that he would've had a better chance asking the Argents where you were than asking me." Smiling slightly at the thought of where my hard knee had managed to land, I found my gaze flitting back to Derek's face, only to find myself remembering just why I had hunted him down in the first place. Shaking my head, I told him, "When you're making stupid decisions and putting innocent lives in danger, your business is my concern, Derek." Bristling as Derek loudly scoffed and moved to take another step away from me, obviously uninterested in my newfound fury with him, I snapped, "How could you bite Isaac Lahey? Did you even give him a choice—"

"Really?" asked Derek, glancing back at me with raised eyebrows. "Do you think I would bite anyone without giving them a chance to back out? I wouldn't do that to you—what makes you think I would do that to anyone else?"

Halfway through opening my mouth to unleash a harsh retort, Derek's blunt words finally registered in my mind and forced me to hesitate. In all honesty, I hadn't truly believed that he would bite Isaac without making sure he was completely positive he wanted the bite. No matter how furious I was with Derek, I would never consider him as that type of person, not in my mind anyways. Finally I pursed my lips, realizing my mistake and finally said, "Well, did you at least tell him about what happens on the full moon? And about the Argents and the other side effects that comes with being a werewolf?"

"Yes, I did," he replied shortly, obviously not thrilled with my unfiltered questions. "Even after I told him everything, he still wanted the bite. I only asked him to keep it a secret, which I now see may be a bit problematic for him."

Ignoring his obvious slight, I rolled my eyes and told him, "He's still practically a child, Derek. How can you not see that? Even knowing the constant danger he would be putting himself in, he still chose to accept the bite. How can you possibly accept that thinking as a good prospect for your pack? Don't you see how crazy and…and reckless that is?" When Derek refused to respond and simply turned his back on me, I sighed and shook my head, realizing that nothing I said was going to get through his thick skull. Finally I quietly said, "If anything happens to him, Derek, it'll be on your hands. Just remember that."

As I made to retrace my footsteps back to the staircase and return to the surface of Beacon Hills, I expected only silence to lead me out. The beam of my flickering flashlight helped keep my steps measured and calm, despite the thick darkness swirling all around me. Just as I raised my foot to rest on the first stair, Derek's quiet voice dragged me back to the hot, sticky basement.

"I was helping him," he said, his back still turned to me as I raised the beam of light to rest on his dark form. "Still am. He needed the strength to confront his tormentors. I gave him that power."

Brow now furrowed in confusion, I asked him, "What do you mean?"

"How well do you know Isaac?"

"We've spoken a few times," I responded, not completely sure where Derek was steering this conversation. "I met him at the graveyard when…well, it was a while ago. Why?"

Apparently not picking up on my hesitation on bringing up my mother's grave, Derek asked, "During the times you spoke to him, did you ever notice the constant stream of bruises on him? Black eyes or bruised arms?"

Initially I frowned, crossing my arms over my chest as I prepared to tell Derek that I honestly had no idea what he was talking about. But then the image of Isaac standing in the cemetery, visibly uncomfortable with my curiosity about the strange bruise embedded into the soft skin underneath his eye, came rushing back to me. Slowly guilt began to prod its way deep inside of me, slashing at my insides and shrieking at me for actually forgetting what Isaac had looked like when I'd first met him. What had he said—it was from a lacrosse game? Who had done that to him then? His parents? Someone from school? How could I be so foolish and naïve for actually forgetting that?

"Judging from your expression, you seem to know exactly what I'm talking about," said Derek, his intense gaze stripping each of my muddle emotions away from me. "Isaac needed some control in his life—I gave him the chance to get that. Not everyone sees the bite as a curse, Jane."

"He may believe it's a gift now," I finally told him stubbornly, "but that will change soon enough. When he goes through his first full moon, when he finds himself being shot at by the Argents, he'll realize that he made a mistake. Just…don't let him get hurt, okay? He needs you to protect him—he doesn't have anyone else to help him with this."

Something seemed to tick within Derek's strong jaw line, but he curtly nodded. Abruptly realizing that this was the end of our conversation, I sighed and glanced towards the hard concrete floor. Unwilling to meet Derek's intense gaze, I began to turn on my heel and return to the staircase. Suddenly a hand reached out to grasp my upper arm, this time far gentler than when he had previously restrained me. Frowning, I tilted my face up to blink up at him, puzzled as to what more he had to say. It was only then that I realized how close I was standing to him.

Instantaneously I felt something snap deep within me and the fury and rage I had harbored for Derek began to shift into a vaguely familiar sensation I had believed to be lost forever. The warmth of his hand spread throughout my body, sending little electric currents through my veins. Tension of a different sort entirely crackled lightly all around us, causing goosebumps to sprout up on my bare flesh. Feeling the light bumps underneath his fingertips, I caught Derek glancing down at his hand tightly holding me, an achingly familiar expression flitting across his face. However, just as he caught me staring up at him, Derek instantly dropped my arm and took a hurried step away from me.

"Don't come back here, Jane. Please, just don't," he said finally, shaking his head and turning away from me. Frozen to the floor, I watched as he disappeared into the train car, leaving me standing with my dull flashlight still clasped tightly in my hand and feeling utterly foolish.

* * *

It had been quite a few weeks since I had truly felt this lost. Even as I had driven away from the train warehouse, my trembling hands tightly clutching at the leather steering wheel, I found myself unwilling to remember just where I lived. Instead, my car seemed to drive itself, my instincts on autopilot as I focused on my blank mind. Darkness was beginning to blanket Beacon Hills, tiny stars dotting the sky and a luminous orb lighting my path into downtown. In a matter of a few short minutes, I found myself blinking up my newfound safe place, one that I would never have expected to be comforting until now.

By the time I had scrounged together my proper clothes and even found an empty water bottle, I slipped my tote bag over my shoulder and stepped through the familiar double doors, smiling at the familiar girl sitting behind the front desk as soon as the fluorescent light brushed against my skin. "Hey, Jane," she said from behind her glossy health magazine, wagging her fingers at me warmly. "Haven't seen you here in a few days."

"I needed to blow off some steam," I replied, shrugging my shoulders at her curious gaze. "I figured a workout is the best way to do it."

Nodding in understanding, she returned to her magazine just as I turned my head and continued down the familiar pathway to the women's locker room. Fortunately it seemed I was just about the only one who had found themselves in desperate need for a workout, which made it all too easy to slip into a pair of slate gray cloth capris and a deep, dark blue tank top. As soon as the laces of my tennis shoes were laced up and tightly tied, I snuck out of the locker room and headed into the farthest part of the gym, right where the all-too familiar punching bag, dark red patches and all, continued to lifelessly hang.

In the span of a few minutes, I found myself punching and kicking at the poor punching bag, releasing the frustration that had been pent up deep within me for days now. As my calloused fists found themselves smacking at the rubbery material, my mind drifted far away from the hardly impressive gym and back to that train warehouse. It had been truly foolish of me to search for Derek, I eventually began to realize. All of that progress I had strode towards—my steps to eventually forgetting him, from resisting the urge to call him to my extradition from the supernatural world—seemed to have dissipate into the air in the span of a few days. Now with one touch, Derek had easily managed to turn me inside out, nearly causing me to do something I was positive we both would come to regret. It had been close—way too close.

As those emotions began to brush against my insides, I found my punches and kicks becoming more and more ferocious. Unfortunately, no matter how hard I punched, it seemed that the thoughts of both Derek and the newly turned Isaac were stubbornly refusing to slip from my mind. Annoyed with this irritating development, I raised my fist to land a nasty blow on the punching bag before me. As it plummeted through the air, the punching bag abruptly moved, revealing the grinning, boyish face of my cousin who had no idea that my fist was inches from nailing him square in the face.

Gasping aloud, I just managed to throw myself off balance to stop from permanently bruising Stiles' face. Instead, my fist arched through the dead air and nearly caused me to topple over. Fortunately, and for what must have been a personal record of mine, I managed to stall myself from falling over completely for the second time that day.

"Jesus, I figured you'd be a little more excited to see me," said Stiles, cocking his eyebrow at my beet red, slightly bruised fists as I wiped the sticky sweat beading on my forehead with the inside of my wrist.

Rolling my eyes, I swept some damp hair that had managed to dislodge from my pony tail behind my ear and asked him in a sharper voice than I initially intended, "What are you doing here, Stiles?"

"You don't write, you don't call," he replied, throwing his hands up in the air in faux exasperation. "I was beginning to think you'd dropped off the face of the planet. I'm beginning to think you just use me for my excellent moving skills."

I winced at the memory of that horrific experience of moving into my apartment and having to climb four flights of stairs at least a hundred times all the while listening to Stiles' continued jokes in hopes of lifting my spirits. Shaking away the images, I sighed and said genuinely, "I'm sorry, Stiles. I've just been so busy with work and school and…well, it's just gotten really hectic lately."

Shrugging his shoulders, he replied, "Eh, don't worry about it." He leaned down to pick up my now sloshing water bottle, pushing the ice cold plastic into my hands as he sat down on a nearby weight bench. Wrapping his long fingers around the band of pale metal holding the two giant black weights and nearly doubling over from the immense weight he clearly was not expecting, he sheepishly smiled up at me as I couldn't help but unleash a much-needed burst of laughter. "Say what you want, but at least I make you laugh," grinned Stiles.

"That you do," I shook my head, still smiling as I took a seat next to him and took a long gulp of the cold water.

"How are you doing?" he asked me now, a hint of seriousness creeping into his voice that sounded far too similar to his father's same concern.

Shrugging my shoulders lightly, I casually replied, "Like I said, I've just been really busy at work and school—I've gotten a lot of late night shifts and my homework is constantly piling up—"

"You know that's not what I'm talking about, Jane," Stiles cut me off, his chocolate brown eyes nearly drowning me in skepticism.

I had known all-too well that he had been looking for an entirely different answer. Sighing and allowing my small smile to slip away from my face, I fiddled with the damp paper label around my plastic bottle and said quietly, "I know." Feeling his ever-watchful gaze refusing to relent, I continued, "I still can't sleep that well. My mind's constantly buzzing with either work stuff or school and, well, my body seems to have adapted to my nightmares. It's just…refusing to let me sleep, which I'm not exactly complaining about. It's almost nice not being woken by my neighbors knocking on my front door, demanding to know what's going on. And with what happened to my apartment a few days ago—"

"What happened to your apartment?" Stiles demanded, catching onto my poorly-timed slip instantly.

"It…," I hesitated, wary of telling him the full truth. Realizing that there was no way out of this, I told him, "Someone broke into my apartment last Friday night and ransacked it completely, even in…in my bedroom."

"Why didn't you call me?" my cousin grilled me, obviously incredulous as to why I had kept this bottled up from him for so long. "Or Dad? Someone should've came over to check up on you—it's not exactly safe to stay in an apartment that's been broken into without someone at least making sure it's clear—"

"Someone did," I interrupted him, and I was guessing it wouldn't take Stiles long to figure out who I was talking about. "I called Derek as soon as I found it all…like that, and he came over and checked it out. He said, from the scent he caught, that it must have been some Omega searching for him there. I guess they picked up on Derek's scent in there from when we were, you know, still on speaking terms." Swallowing the abrupt lump forming in my throat, I added, "He said he was going to track the Omega down. I have no idea what happened though—he doesn't exactly keep me in the loop anymore."

Stiles nodded, peeking over at me and opening his mouth, as if to ask me some question that I probably should have dreaded. However, he visibly hesitated, clearly second guessing his choice of question and instead decided to change the subject by saying, "So, what brought you here? Something must have seriously pissed you off to make you even nearly punch me out."

Bristling as those fresh memories came rushing back, I stubbornly shook my head and said, "It's nothing. Just a…well, it was one hell of a day." Glancing over at him, I asked curiously now, "How did you know I was going to be here anyways?"

"I was driving by when I spotted your car in the parking lot," Stiles replied, taking a glance now around the tattered gym. It wasn't exactly an impressive gym, with its cracks deeply embedded in the concrete walls and obviously second-hand equipment, but it was enough to make me feel far more comfortable than anywhere else in Beacon Hills. "Did you eat dinner yet?" he asked me abruptly.

Realizing now that my stomach was eagerly groaning for some sort of sustenance, I shook my head and responded, "I haven't really had a chance to."

Instantly Stiles was on his feet, offering me his hand. "Come on, I'll take you out somewhere. No offense, but you look like you could have some fun," he said.

Initially I actually hesitated—I had so much work left to take care of for my classes tomorrow, not to mention it was supposed to be laundry night at my apartment, and I definitely needed some freshly washed clothes. However, looking up at Stiles' eager smile, I couldn't help but return it and allow him to help me to my feet. "Alright, I guess I can do that," I said to him. "You're paying, right?"

Scoffing, Stiles retorted, "You're the one with the job—shouldn't _you _be offering to pay?"

"You just said _you _would take _me_ out, remember?" I shot back at him, raising my eyebrows and struggling to stifle my smile. "Doesn't that insinuate that you'll be paying for me?"

As Stiles offered some elaborate response, I couldn't help but shake my head at him, genuinely laughing for what felt like the first time in weeks. Perhaps all I had needed all along was my zany cousin to bring my spirits up.

* * *

**And that is the end of this chapter! Hope you all enjoyed it! Please feel free to leave a review behind and let me know what you thought!**


	6. Chapter Six

**Greetings everyone. (: As I write this, it is Friday night (my beloved Bruins have just won the Eastern Conference Finals!) and I am beginning this next chapter. Before I begin, I just really want to push you all to, when you finish reading this chapter, make sure to post a review for me. I know it may seem like your feedback doesn't matter, but it absolutely does. I know that, from the amount of views this story has gotten over the past few days (which, due to the premiere airing at the same time, is understandable), so I would really appreciate a few reviews from all of you. That's all I have to say for now, besides the fact that I obviously hope that you all enjoy this next chapter. Well, without further ado, here is the next installment of "Howl":**

* * *

**Favorite Line:**

"_Oh my god. You weren't actually flirting with her, were you?"_

* * *

"You look thin—have you been eating enough? You look too thin."

My scheduled dinners with my grandparents—at least every other week, just to placate my worrisome grandmother—always began and ended the same. She would continuously complain about some facet of my experience living on my own those past few months. Either from how exhausted how I looked, or even sometimes how she was concerned that I was spending so much time working to pay for my bills that I wasn't giving myself much time to enjoy myself. Each time I was forced to suffer through Nana's complaints about my newly independent lifestyle, I could always count on my grandfather offering me a sly wink and a muttered, "She misses you more than she'll ever admit" as he hugged me goodbye.

Unfortunately, with each of my visits, it seemed that Nana's complaints only seemed to grow. She was so concerned about me living on my own that, on a particularly rainy night, she had offered my old bedroom to me for the night, just so I didn't have to worry about the slick pavement. With both Pappy and my own assurances, I always managed to wiggle my way out of her grasp and promise that I'd give her a call as soon as I was home. It never failed to be difficult, especially with my grandmother's damp, powder-scented cheeks brushing against my face; but, in the end, I would always climb into my car and drive away from my former home, consistently failing to not glance back and catch a glance of Nana's sad face blinking out at me through the kitchen window.

This visit was no different. As soon as I had helped finish cleaning the dirty dishes the three of us had left behind, I had gone to pick up my purse and my grandmother had managed to notice how I had happened to thin out during the few months that I had been out of her house.

"It's just from the gym, Nana," I told her, sliding my purse over my shoulder and beginning to dig for my keys. "I promise you, I'm eating plenty."

Ever since I had started those self-defense classes, I had noticed how I was not as soft as I used to be. I had never been overweight, but I would hardly call my body athletic by any means. But now I had noticed the excess weight shedding from my body, muscles tightening my arms, legs, and torso and making it much easier to take those four flights of stairs up to my apartment each and every night.

Her face still flush with skepticism, she pursed her lips tightly and watched as I finally was able to snatch my car keys from the depths of my purse. As soon as they were firmly within my grasp, I felt my grandmother's thin arms gently wrap around me. "It was good seeing you, darling," she said, pressing her soft lips to my cheek.

"You too, Nana," I replied, relaxing within the safe confines of her embrace and sighing. Catching Pappy peeking around the corner at the two of us, a damp dish towel still twisted in his knotted hands, I warmly smiled at him and said, "I'll see you both next week, I promise."

"And don't forget—"

"To call you," both Pappy and I finished my grandmother's hurried sentence. Grinning as she flushed at her predictability, I added, "I know the drill, Nana. Don't worry, I won't forget."

"I'll walk you out," my grandfather offered, discarding the dish towel on a nearby coffee table and stepping towards me. Catching my nod, he gently wrapped his arm around my shoulders and, after one last shared smile with Nana, we slipped out of the front door.

A fresh coating of light rain blanketed the jagged pavement of my grandparents' old driveway, the soothing scent flooding my senses and causing me to deeply breathe in the cool air. The clouds had finally begun to dissipate, revealing the enormous, full orb of the moon, reminding me far too easily that, somewhere within the cozy confines of Beacon Hills, Derek was dealing with Isaac's first transformation during the full moon. Instantly I winced, furious that I had even bothered thinking about the irresponsible Alpha and his foolish Beta. I didn't need to bother myself with that right now—he had made it all too clear that I had to keep my nose out of his business, and for once I wasn't all that reluctant to listen. Even though it caused almost every instinct within my body to scream out that what Derek was doing wrong, a tiny part of my head whispered into my ear how, if I stayed away from Derek, I wouldn't have to worry about getting my heart broken again. And that, to be honest, sounded like a fairly horrible situation that I didn't want to face again.

"You alright?" asked Pappy, jarring me from my thoughts and causing me to glance up at his wrinkled face.

Nodding, I replied, "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just…a little tired. It's been pretty hectic at work lately and school's been keeping me up every night, but—"

"Still can't sleep?" he interrupted me, his sharp, dark eyes not missing a beat as he scrutinized my frozen face. "Don't lie to me, Jane. You've got bags underneath your eyes, and you look even paler than normal. Both your grandmother and I have noticed—we really think you should go see someone for whatever it is that is causing your nightmares. If you won't tell us what happened to—"

"Nothing happened to me," I told him firmly, ducking out from underneath his arm now. "I'm telling you, Pappy, I haven't had any nightmares in months now. I just have been so busy with everything that I haven't been able to get much sleep. I've got spring break coming up though soon, so I'll be able to get some rest then. Neither of you need to worry about me. Honestly, I'm fine."

While hardly convinced, my grandfather nodded and, after one last short embrace, slipped back into his house. Sighing, I tugged my hair out of my ponytail and raked my fingers through the knotted mess, frustrated with the skepticism I was receiving from every facet of my life. It was getting to be a little much to be treated like a ticking time bomb. Just as I, with my abruptly heavy head trying to shake away my annoyed thoughts, stepped towards my driver's side door, an abrupt vibration began to erupt from my purse. Rolling my eyes at the interruption, I hurriedly dug into my purse and snapped up my phone as I slipped into my seat. "Hello?" I asked, tiredly rubbing at my eyes.

"Hey Jane," came Uncle Jake's voice, sounding just as exhausted as I felt. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

Nearly scoffing at the thought of anyone interrupting my currently uneventful social life, I replied with a sarcastic smile that only the full moon could witness, "Not at all. I was just leaving Nana and Pappy's house. What's up?"

"Have you heard from Stiles at all? I've been trying to get ahold of him, but he won't answer his phone. With everything going on, I just…well, I want to make sure he gets home soon."

Leaning my head back against my seat, I closed my eyes and almost found myself slipping away into sleep. For some reason, fatigue was beginning to creep into my system at an alarming rate and nearly washed away all of my energy in one swoop. Fortunately, my instincts began to twinge as I distantly listened to my uncle wonder about his son. "What's going on?" I asked, forcing my heavy eyelids open and squinting through the darkness swirling around my car. "Did something happen?"

"Well…" Uncle Jake hesitated, clearly not fond of spilling information about the inner secrets of the Beacon Hills Sheriff Department. However, it seemed his concern with keeping me all-too aware of whatever may be lurking in the darkness pushed him to reply, "Someone was killed last night…I won't tell you the details, but it was pretty brutal. I doubt you knew him, since he hasn't worked at Beacon Hills High in years, but his name was Dan Lahey. I doubt you knew him, but his son goes to the same high school. It looks like he's the one who killed him."

In one instant, my eyes widened and I pitched forward in my seat, not believing exactly what I was hearing. My heart beat wildly against my rib cage, barely slowing down a single second as I practically shouted through the phone, "What?!"

Apparently my reaction was not what Uncle Jake had been expecting: my exclamation was so loud that, judging from the sounds I began to hear, he nearly dropped his phone but, along with emitting a mumbled curse, managed to catch it before it clattered to the ground. Static pricked at my ears, but I ignored the annoyance and, not bothering to wait for my uncle to say a single word, demanded, "When did this happen? How? What makes you even think Isaac would kill his own father? What if-"

"Jane," Uncle Jake interrupted me, his voice slightly impatient voice as he was, no doubt, rubbing his hand up and down his stubbled jaw line, "how do you know Isaac? How well do you even know him?"

"I—" My words clogged in my throat as I realized this was the second time in the span of three days that I was being asked this question. To be honest, I barely knew Isaac at all; sure, we had spoken a few times after our initial meetings, but it was always short and hardly eventful. While I had learned the bare basics from Derek about Isaac's father, I didn't even know one single detail about his mother. Was she even still alive, or had she simply vanished from Isaac's life? But, despite my lack of true knowledge about Isaac, I still felt this…responsibility to protect him, to make sure that he was safe. With this life that he had foolishly chosen, I believed that Isaac had a right to at least have a chance to make the right choices. Finally, I shook my head and replied, "I knew him through school and, even though I didn't know him that well, I know for a fact that he's not a killer. What evidence could you possibly have to make you so positive that he was the one who killed his father?"

"You know I can't tell you that," he said, his stern, cop voice coming out so similar to my father's that it nearly made me jump in surprise. "Not with this being an active case. You just have to trust me, Jane. Isaac is in a bad situation, and I don't need you rushing off and doing something foolish to get yourself in trouble. You need to stay away from him."

"Like I needed to—" I instantly caught myself from finishing my incriminating sentence. Uncle Jake still had no knowledge whatsoever of my former relationship—if I could even call it that—with Derek, and I had no desire to fill him in on the details just yet.

"Like you needed to what?" asked Uncle Jake, oblivious to how close I had been to giving up that part of my life.

"It's…nothing," I said, shaking my head and raking my fingers through my thick, curly hair. "Where is Isaac now, Uncle Jake? Down at the station?"

"I'm not telling you—"

"He is, isn't he?" I cut him off, already starting my car and turning on my headlights in hopes of cutting through the thick darkness. Abruptly I realized just what was gleaming high above me, completely ignorant of its newfound significance within my life. It was the full moon, and Isaac was spending his first transformation in a cell at the sheriff's office. If that wasn't a true recipe for a disaster, I didn't know what was.

A heavy, highly irritated sigh filled the speaker of my phone, but I ignored it as I pulled away from the curb in front of my grandparents' house, checking over my shoulder to make sure I didn't pull out in front of anyone. "Don't you do anything stupid, Jane," my uncle warned me, hopefully unaware of the direction I was heading in.

"I'll talk to you later, Uncle Jake," I said, not even bothering to listen to his reply as I hung my phone up and threw it in the passenger seat beside me. It was far too late for me to listen to him now.

* * *

"Stiles, I have no idea why you're not answering your phone, but call me back as soon as you can, okay?" I snapped into the phone, my voice more curt than I intended to be. Nonetheless, it was too late; I had already tucked my cell phone into my cup holder as I sped through a green light and found myself approaching the Beacon Hills Sheriff's Station.

The only person I found myself willing to call was Stiles. If Derek had even an inkling that I was involving myself with Isaac's sticky situation, he would instantly shut me out and force me to do something drastic, which wasn't something I was planning on doing so easily. The only other two connections I had with the supernatural world were Scott McCall and Allison Argent, who were both completely out of the question. Considering how, just a few months ago, my former female friend had managed to not only threaten me with an arrow to the back but reveal her brief allegiance to Kate Argent, we weren't exactly on perfect speaking terms. And, with Scott's eternal connection to Allison, it made it a little too difficult to try and communicate with him. Thus, that left me with my dear cousin.

Sighing as I glanced down at my phone and found the screen still black and unblinking, I shook my head and began to parallel park in front of the old, crumbling brick building. Just as I managed to turn my engine off, I glanced out of my windshield just as I was pulling my purse towards me and froze completely. There, only a few spaces away from my car, was an all-too familiar sky blue Jeep, one that had been parked in front of my house far too many times.

"You have got to be kidding me," I muttered under my breath, throwing open my driver's side door and staggering out of my car.

Hurriedly I strode towards Stiles' Jeep, fully prepared to begin berating him for, as always, refusing to actually answer his phone. Unfortunately I soon found, as I peered through the left window, that I was a tad bit late. The Jeep was completely empty, besides the typical mess that I had grown to expect to be trapped in Stiles' car. Furrowing my brow, I glanced up at the station and realized that Derek and I must not have been the only ones who were quite aware of Isaac's current situation.

Tugging my purse higher up on my shoulder, I proceeded to march up to the main entrance of the Sheriff's office. I had managed to visit my uncle's workplace quite a few times since I had first arrived in Beacon Hills. Of course, one of those times hadn't been on my accord, but it was one memory that I preferred not to reminisce about right at that moment. Instead, I focused on the familiar, spanning silver sign that was emblazoned with the name of the building, along with the large portrait of the Beacon Hills shield that each and every police officer within the Beacon Hills town limits was required to carry with them. Finding my eyes drawn to the sign, I gazed up at it in almost a trance-like state as I slipped through the front doors and stumbled on a startling sight.

Standing right behind the front desk was Gina, the only female officer that was employed at the station. Along with being the only person I was ever able to really recognize on my visits to my uncle's workplace, Gina was usually the one officer I could always count on for a warm smile as I passed by to wander down the winding corridors to my uncle's office. When we had first met, I had instantly noticed that she had the smoothest skin the color of rich, dark caramel and shiny, raven black hair that was tied back at the base of her neck. But Gina's smooth skin and lovely hair wasn't what instantly caught my eye when I stepped through the main entrance of the station. No, instead it was, in fact, the relaxed, familiar form of Derek leaning against the bare counter, a wide, gleaming grin spread across his face, that drew my immediate attention.

While a surprised smile was slapped on Gina's face as she blinked over at me, I barely noticed it as I blankly stared over at Derek. His grin immediately dropped from his face, his intense, forest green eyes wafting over me as he straightened up. He was still clad in his black, cracked leather jacket, the same one that had once stayed in my bedroom for days as I found myself unwilling to relinquish it back to its owner. For some reason, an abrupt desire to run my fingers over that soft, worn leather bubbled deep within me, causing a flush to spark on my cheeks and forcing me to swallow the sensation back deep into my inner being. Of course, Derek caught my blush in a second, but I made sure to ignore his curious gaze as I glanced back at Gina and smiled lightly at her. "Hi, Gina," I told her.

"Hey Jane," she replied, glancing back over at Derek with a strange expression on her face before returning her gaze back to me. "What can I—" Before she could finish her question, the phone nearby shrilly rang out, causing both Gina and I to jump in surprise. Derek, of course, was stoic as he continued to blatantly stare at me with his narrowing eyes. "Sorry, let me just get this," she said, glancing between us one last time before rushing over to the phone and answering it with a quiet, "Hello?"

Once Gina's attention was completely preoccupied, I was prepared to have Derek completely ignore me and act like I hadn't just entered the sheriff's station. Instead, in an instant, Derek was striding towards me, his hand snatching up my upper arm and demanding in a low, furious voice, "What do you think you are doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question," I breathed, hardly backing down as I tilted my chin up stubbornly so I could fully glare at him. "I know about Isaac and his father, and I know that Stiles is in this building. Where is he?"

"None of your business," snapped Derek, refusing to relinquish his grip on my arm as he glanced over his shoulder at Gina, who still had her back turned to the both of us.

"What—are you acting as a _distraction_?" I couldn't help but say indignantly, not even believing what I was witnessing. "Are you _insane_? Not only is it suicide coming back here, acting as if you weren't once held here as a suspect in a murder case—"

"I was innocent!" he exclaimed defensively, despite the dire situation we were rapidly finding ourselves in.

"You and I both know that doesn't matter, Derek," I told him. "How did you even manage to distract Gina? She's always been diligent and has never been easily dist—"Abruptly the image of a relaxed, grinning Derek began to swim within my vision, an image that I had barely been able to witness since I had first met him. "Oh my god. You weren't actually _flirting _with her, were you?"

Raising his expressive eyebrows, he asked coolly, "So what if I was? It's not like that's a crime."

"You don't flirt," I told him in a flat tone. "I've never once seen you flirt."

Refusing to respond, he simply glared down at me, clearly not fond of where this conversation was heading towards. Before I could say anything, he told me in a first voice, "You need to get out of here, now. You're not stupid—you know that it's the full moon, and there's a werewolf trapped in here who's in the process of having his first transition. It's not safe for you here, Jane."

Shaking my head bolshily, I replied, "And just leave my cousin behind with you to deal with Isaac? I don't think so. Apparently you don't know me as well as you think you do."

Derek instantly rolled his eyes, practically growling as he released my arm and took a step away from me. "You're so damn stubborn," he snarled under his breath. "Can't you just listen to me for once?"

"When you're right for once, maybe I will," I retorted coolly.

Just as Derek opened his mouth to, no doubt, deliver a sarcastic response, he froze, tilting his head to the side ever so slightly. Initially I was completely flabbergasted, unsure of what exactly he was trying to do. But, as I noticed the concentrated expression on his face and the slight flare of his nostrils, I realized just what he reminded me of—a dog perking up at a strange noise striking out in the middle of the night.

Before I could ask him what was happening, a blaring alarm began to resound throughout the station, resounding off the walls and causing a painstaking ache to blast within my ears. Gasping out and instinctively reaching up to cover my sensitive ears, I was forced to watch as, just as Gina began to turn around to figure out what was going on, a stealthy Derek managed to slam her head forcefully onto the countertop, knocking her out cold.

"What the hell are you doing?" I shouted over the shrill sound of the fire alarm. Flashing, crimson red lights were splashing themselves all over the walls, casting everything in my sight in a shade of red that resembled blood far too closely.

"Keeping a low profile," Derek yelled back. "Stay here!" he managed to shout before disappearing through the open doorway.

Rolling my eyes at his foolishness, I bounded after him, unwilling to be left behind like a child while he went to go find out what the hell had caused someone—possibly Stiles—to pull the fire alarm. It didn't take Derek all that long to figure out that I was following him, and I caught the distinctive sound of his exasperated sigh. We wound our way to the back of the building, where the cells were all lined up on the back wall. As we neared the last cell, the distinct sounds of furious growls began to reach my ears. Feeling my blood run cold, I rounded the corner with Derek and peered straight into the back room.

Initially all I saw was Stiles, pressed against the left wall behind a stainless steel desk as he breathlessly gazed at the back of a tall, lanky transformed werewolf who looked suspiciously like Isaac. A man dressed in a deputy's uniform was crumpled at his feet, either knocked out from a blow to the head or perhaps fainted from pure fear of the monster standing before him. Derek instantly stepped forward, smashing something made of glass underneath his black shoe as he glared over at the passed out man.

At the shattering sound, Isaac turned, revealing the fearsome fangs protruding from his sneering mouth, the thick, pale brown sideburns crawling all the way down his jaw line, and the mutated, crooked nose that was sucking in heavy gasps of air furiously. His glowing, amber eyes glanced over at Derek before sliding over to me, standing only a few feet away from him in the doorway. My blood was rushing loudly within my ears, so it didn't take a rocket scientist to guess that the werewolf before me could hear it as well.

Isaac, clearly forgetting the rest of his surroundings, took a hasty step towards me, low growls hissing from the back of his throat. Immediately Derek stepped in front of me, shielding me from Isaac's blurred sight and unleashing a horrific, vicious roar that blanketed the dull fire alarm far too easily. Isaac instantly crumbled at the base of the wall, soft whimpers replacing his growls as his claws gripped at his curly hair.

Not realizing that my own breath was coming out in frantic gasps, I found myself catching Derek's gaze; he was staring unabashedly at me, a strange emotion hooding his eyes. "Thanks," I found myself whispering to him. As soon as my voice reached his ears, the emotion vanished and he curtly nodded.

Internally shaking the uncomfortable sensation brimming deep within me, I strode over to Stiles, reaching my hand out to him to help him up. "Are you alright?" I asked him hurriedly, checking over him to see if there were any scratches or bruises that might have been caused by the werewolf behind me. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," replied Stiles, almost embarrassedly, but he didn't pull away as I wrapped my arms around his neck. "Really, I'm fine, Jane," he repeated as he gently pushed me away after a short moment. "I wouldn't mind knowing what you're doing here though."

"I'll tell you later," I said, biting my lip as I glanced over my shoulder at Isaac, who was now peering out at all of us. His face was completely restored, a little pale but completely normal. Turning to Derek in surprise, I couldn't help but sound impressed as I asked him, "How did you do that?"

His eyes searching over my face one last time before beginning to help Isaac back to his feet, Derek responded simply, "I'm the Alpha."

* * *

**And that is the end of this chapter! Thanks everyone for reading and please, please leave a review behind! Hope you all enjoyed! **


	7. Chapter Seven

**Wow, thank you all so much for the wonderful reviews you have left me. They have been very uplifting to read and, to be honest, they have really pushed me to begin this chapter and to have it done as soon as possible. So, thank you very much for that. It also doesn't help that I have a brand new episode of Teen Wolf to look forward to every Monday. (: Oh, and I know my choice for favorite line may seem a little odd, but just wait until you get to it—you'll understand how, with the context, it was my favorite part to write. Well, without further ado, here is the next installment of "Howl":**

**Favorite Line:**

"_She doesn't like coffee. She only likes tea. Black tea."_

* * *

_Tick, tick, tick…_

"Your turning signal is still on."

Startled out of my deep thoughts by Derek's soft voice, I glanced down at my dashboard and was even more surprised to find that he was, in fact, quite right. Flushing as I clicked my blinker off and the obnoxious ticking noise vanished from the inside of my car, I struggled to continue gazing out at the stretch of road before me. It seemed to span forever, never ending as my tires crunched over the cracked pavement and continued to the Warehouse District of Beacon Hills. Fortunately, I had quite a few thoughts on my mind to distract me during the lengthy car ride.

As if on cue, I found myself taking a shy side glance towards my passenger seat where the man who continuously seemed to plague my thoughts was silently sitting. His dark, heavy brow was furrowed, wrinkles puckering his forehead as the wheels in his mind were furiously churning away. Intense, forest green eyes harshly gazed out the windshield before us, his long fingers drumming distractingly on the passenger side door. No doubt he was growing impatient with my willingness to actually drive the speed limit, but his frustration barely affected me. I was far too absorbed with my own thoughts to notice his frustrations.

After all of the months that I had invested in moving on from Derek and the complicated strings that were attached to his life, how could all of my hard work just swirl down the drain? The beginning weeks had never been easy, especially with my heart-wrenching, recurring nightmares that would continuously haunt my desperations for sleep. I would constantly find myself staring blankly down at my cell phone, the familiar phone number plugged into my phone and my stubby thumb poised over the talk button. It was only when I forced myself to remember Derek's blunt warning that, if I were to remain involved with him, my family would ultimately be placed in constant danger that I realized I needed to make my life without him work. In order to help save my grandparents from the heartbreak of losing their only granddaughter, I forced myself to hang up the phone and continue on with my struggles for an independent life.

Abruptly Derek glanced over at me, his gaze lingering long enough to jar me from my thoughts and force me to hastily turn my own eyes back to the road before me. Desperate for a distraction from the heat crawling up my neck and tickling at my rounded jaw, I peeked up at my rear view mirror and, squinting through the darkness, checked on the slumbering teenage boy in my backseat.

Of course, he had barely moved from his uncomfortable-looking, scrunched up position since I had first pulled away from the Beacon Hills Sheriff's Station, which was at least twenty minutes ago. He had been so drained from his first full moon transition that he just barely been able to stumble into my backseat before completely passing out. Catching my concerned expression and my chewed bottom lip as he closed Isaac's door, Derek had shook his head and assured me, "Don't worry. It's a normal side effect—he just needs to sleep it off."

Still not all that convinced, I nonetheless nodded and, after casting one last, lingering glance at my backseat, returned to my driver's side door. Due to the fact that Stiles had driven Derek over to the station in his Jeep, I had been the sole volunteer able to drive both Derek and his Beta back to the abandoned train warehouse, leaving Stiles to deal with the mess at the station. Through a hurried explanation from my cousin, I had learned all about the hunter disguised as Uncle Jake's Deputy and his plan to inject Isaac with a needle brimming with wolfsbane, effectively killing him in one simple swoop. I was still bristling at the thought—what had happened to the hunters' supposed code of only hunting those had spilt human blood? They had no solid proof that Isaac had been the one who murdered his father, and yet they had made the quick, irrational decision to snuff out his young life without a second thought.

Derek must have caught me shaking my head out of the corner of his eye, since his quiet voice abruptly broke through the heavy silence of my car as he asked, "What's wrong?"

Nearly jumping out of my skin at the sound of his voice, I glanced over at him in surprise. I hadn't even realized that he had continued to gaze at me, even after I had hurriedly avoided his curious eyes, but he appeared nonchalant as he continued to study me. It would hardly seem appropriate to mention the hypocritical code of the hunters to Derek, considering their lack of understanding of said code when it came to the desolation of his entire family. Releasing the sensitive flesh of my bottom lip from my front teeth, I hesitated before replying, "It's nothing. I was just...just worrying about Isaac, that's all. He hasn't moved from that spot since we started driving."

Twisting his neck around to check and make sure that my facts were right, it took Derek just a moment to turn back around, his penetrating eyes never flickering away from my face, and say, "He'll be fine. It's always like that after your first transformation on the full moon. He'll sleep it off for a day or two and then he'll be back on his feet in no time."

"Was Scott like that?" I asked him, growing more curious with the whole idea of the first transformation on the full moon. Derek had only opened up to me once about that sensation of losing your humanity to that animalistic, primal side; it now seemed like ages ago, as if it had all been a wonderful dream that had managed to drift just out of my outstretched fingertips.

"Yeah," Derek nodded, his own mind seemingly drifting back to that night. "But he didn't have an Alpha to help control his urges. He was pretty much on his own."

"That's not true," I frowned, forced to turn my gaze away from him in order to turn directly into the warehouse district.

"Well, yeah. He may have had your cousin, but I'd hardly call that helpful—"

"I wasn't talking about Stiles," I interrupted him, eyes still lingering on the fast-approaching parking lot of the familiar train warehouse and causing me to unknowingly avoid peeking over at the passenger side of my car. As I finally turned into the deserted lot, I continued, "Scott had you to help him, Derek. I still remember that night—you were keeping an eye on him the entire time, just so he wouldn't do something he'd later regret. He may not have had an Alpha, but he did have you to help control his urges."

Initially Derek said nothing, even as I pulled my car into a spot closest to the obscure, dusty wooden door and switched my ignition off. But, just as I tucked my car keys into my jacket pocket and went to unlatch my seatbelt, I found myself peeking through my thick curtain of dark hair and finding Derek staring at me strangely. Flushing once more, I asked him in a puzzled voice, "What?"

A frown tugging at the corners of his mouth, he shook his head and turned to grab the door handle. Feeling a fresh breath of courage tickle at my insides, I hurriedly reached my hand out and gently touched his shoulder, causing him to freeze instantly. Isaac's soft snores drifted up from the backseat, assuring us that we were not being eavesdropped on—it was just the two of us in this conversation, just as we had been countless times before he had become an Alpha. "Derek," I said, my voice barely over a whisper now in hopes of not waking Isaac. "What is it?"

A heavy sigh breathed past Derek's lips, no doubt pressed together tightly now as he continued to keep his back turned to me. Just as I was positive that he was far too stubborn for me to break through to him, I caught him quietly asking, "What else do you remember about that night, Jane?"

Confusion initially shrouded itself deep within me, even as Derek finally turned back to face me, that intense, penetrating gaze prodding at my insides and, as it had in the past, nearly turning me inside out. It was only when his words slowly began to embed themselves into my mind that I realized what elsehad happened that night of the full moon. Vivid memories of his lips pressing hungrily into mine, his long fingers tangling themselves deep within my wild hair, nearly caused my toes to begin to curl. And then, replacing all of those memories was a completely different recollection, one that occurred on another late night close to the full moon: Derek embracing me one last time before vanishing into the night, his warning that we could never be together, not without putting everyone I loved in peril, still ringing in my ears. Even then, I could still hear his quiet voice, pained and reluctant.

Tears abruptly began to sting my eyes, blurring my vision and forcing me to hurriedly turn my face from Derek's, desperate not to see how much he had affected. Why had he been so determined to bring that night up? It didn't matter anymore—he had made it quite clear that nothing good or right could ever come of us being together, so there was no point looking back at the past now.

"Jane," said Derek now, his voice gentler than I had grown used to as he had clearly spotted the tears trickling down my damp cheeks.

"We have to get him inside," I said thickly, hurriedly wrenching my door open and climbing from my seat.

After what seemed like an eternity, the sound of Derek's own door clicking open reached my ears. Ignoring the relentless wave of emotions that continued to roll over me, I forced myself to watch, arms tightly crossed over my chest, as Derek silently bent over into the backseat and somehow managed to maneuver Isaac towards him without even waking the sleeping teenager. Cradling him smoothly in his arms as he had with me in the not so distant past, Derek easily strode towards the warehouse, not even bothering to check over his shoulder to see if I had followed him. Perhaps that was my cue to leave, to let myself return home and hopefully leave this horrible night behind. But, remembering the sleepless tossing and turning that was waiting for me within the sheets of my bed, I pushed myself to close the backseat door behind Derek and retrace Derek's steps down to the basement.

Initially I had forgotten about the gloominess that was paired with the basement that Derek had chosen for his lair when I descended the rickety staircase. Crumbling cement walls still lined the massive room, but they were now spotted with oil lanterns lit lowly, casting shadows across the entire empty space. The nose-tingling scent of must had vanished from the room, leaving only the warm scent of the burning oil and the occasional whiff of fresh night air creeping through the cracks of the surprisingly clear windows. It was as if I had been transported into a completely different room from the one I had visited only a few nights ago.

Ripping my wide gaze from the startlingly welcoming basement, I found my eyes now following Derek's shadowy form as he disappeared into the sole train car, Isaac still in his arms. Feeling uncomfortable with the idea of traipsing in on what was most likely his living space, I settled for watching him through the dingy windows as he laid Isaac down on what was hopefully a sleeping bag or maybe even a mattress and, after waiting a moment to make sure he didn't wake, returning back the lantern-lit room.

If Derek was surprised that I had actually followed him into the not-so-deserted basement, he refused to reveal it as he stared down at me. Shifting uncomfortably under his forest green gaze, I cast one last glance around the room and said, "It looks better in here. Like…more like a place someone can live."

"That was the idea," replied Derek shortly, still staring at me so openly that I was ready to burst with both embarrassment and annoyance. When I couldn't bring my legs to allow me to leave, he added bluntly, "You should get home, Jane. It's already getting late and you need to get some sleep."

Casting my gaze down to my scuffed leather boots as I realized that there would be no "getting sleep" that night, I went to turn on my heel and leave Derek behind in his silent basement without even uttering a goodbye. But Derek's words about that fateful night crept back into my mind, my fingers curling so tightly into my palms that I was no doubt close to drawing blood.

"Derek," I finally said, turning back to face him, only to find that he hadn't moved an inch from when I had last left him. We stood a few feet from one another, and yet it seemed like there was an entire ocean separating us. Taking in a breath and praying that I could keep this newfound courage, I continued, "What else do you remember from that night of the full moon?"

At first, the man before me frowned, rubbing his jaw line uncomfortably as he clearly struggled with his response. Eventually he sighed, replying quietly, "You shouldn't do this, Jane. It was a mistake to bring it up, I know that—"

"Just answer me," I cut him off, taking a couple hesitant steps towards him and refusing to relent this time. I forced myself to continue staring at him, hoping that Derek would realize that I wasn't bound to end this conversation anytime soon. "All I want is one answer from you. What do you remember?" When he continued to refuse to respond, I couldn't help but add in a slightly hurt voice, "Do you even remember it at all?"

"Of course I do," Derek abruptly snapped, impatience and frustration creeping into his face as he took an incensed step towards me. With his voice rising with each word that he spewed out in rage, he continued, "Do you honestly think that it would only take a few months for me to entirely forget the events of that night? Did you believe that I would just let everything that happened between us ever since the day I met you in that library slip from my mind? Damn it, Jane, this hasn't been any easier for me to completely lose you than it has for you." Again, he neared me once more, as if positive that being so close to me would help get his point across more effectively. "To watch you as you've moved on with your life has been utter madness for me, more than you can ever realize. But one of us has to be strong. We can't give in to these…these desires, or else you will lose your family, Jane. You will lose everyone you love—do you really want that?"

"You know that answer, Derek," I softly replied, barely able to match his yells from just moments before. Thick, heavy emotion was crawling into my own trembling voice, but it was the fresh wave of tears sprouting up in my eyes that seemed to affect Derek the most. He turned his face away, unwilling to look at them any longer, but it was my voice that dragged his gaze back to me. "After two months and four days, that answer hasn't changed one bit. But I can't just act like I don't care about you more than anyone else in this world. It's impossible for me to just push those emotions down and forget about them like you have."

"I never forgot," Derek corrected me instinctively, his tone firm as he continued to narrow his eyes down at me. Shaking his head possibly at his own slip, he added, "Don't you understand why we have to do this? Why this…distance between us has to work? It's the only way." In spite of his words, Derek's instincts seemed to consume his hand as he reached up and gently cradled the side of my face with his warm, calloused hand.

"It's so hard," I whispered to him. I lifted my own hand to grasp his wrist, holding onto it tightly. My eyelids drifted shut, tears continuing to leak out from them and just catch on Derek's fingertips. It was the soft press of his thumb that brought my vision back, as his smooth ability to wipe away my tears helped dry my cheeks. Despite the lack of tears on my face, he continued to caress my face, watching his thumb as if he had completely lost control of it. "I don't think I can keep doing this," I softly told him.

"You don't have a choice," responded Derek just as quietly despite his blunt tone.

Feeling his warm, surprisingly gentle hand cradling the entire side of my face, my body only inches away from his, it all just felt so _right_. Like this was what was meant to be, despite all the obstacles thrust in our path. And I was quite positive that Derek felt it too—I could feel it in his touch, read it in his forest green eyes as they bore straight into mine. I didn't even realize that his face was nearing mine until I felt his hot breath brushing against my parted lips and each of his long, dark eyelashes were easily countable.

"We shouldn't do this," he whispered to me, his own eyelids slipping closed.

"I know," I replied, but none of that mattered as I pushed myself onto my tiptoes and pressed my lips against his.

Initially Derek continued to hesitate, barely even moving against lips as I encircled my arms around his neck and, continuing to stand on my toes, willed him to relent to his desires just this once. But I finally felt him give in after just another moment, his right hand moving down to roughly grab at my waist and pull me even closer to him. His other fingers were left to tightly tangle themselves into my unruly hair, a tingling sensation that I had missed so dearly. Deepening the kiss, Derek forced me to retreat back to the wall behind me, my back pressed up against it so harshly that I was positive the cold concrete was sinking through the cotton material of my jacket. For minutes or hours, I'm not even positive, we continued to embrace, gripping one another as if our lives depended on it. It was only when I realized that I was moments away from blacking out from suffocation that I forced my palms up against Derek's chest and gently tried to pry him off of me.

In an instant, Derek ripped himself out of my grip, his back turned me as he nearly doubled over. His own breathing was ragged, as if he had just run a mile—even though I'm quite sure that would barely even affect him, even if he was solely human. Just barely able to catch my own breath, I moved to take a step forward, my fingers outstretched to gently brush against his shoulder. But, as soon as he registered my touch, Derek rounded on me, his eyes nearly burning crimson red as he glared down at me. "Get out," he breathed furiously.

Stumbling back in pure shock as I blinked up at him, I stuttered out, "D-Derek, what's wrong?"

"Get. Out. Now," snarled Derek, hands trembling so violently that I was forced to allow my gaze to drift down to him. It was only when I realized that the tips of his claws were forcing their ways out of his fingers that I understood what was happening—_he was changing. _The full moon…somehow it had begun to affect him in a way that I had never witnessed before. Only once had he truly lost control of his abilities, but that was when he had been so badly injured that he had been forced to sleep off the pain for a couple hours and was completely unaware of his surroundings. This was completely different, and I was so startled that my legs remained frozen, unwilling to flee just yet.

"Derek—"

"I SAID GET OUT!" he roared now, so ferocious that I was sure the concrete walls were shaking in fear.

How Isaac had managed to stay asleep I'll never truly know, but that question did not come to my mind at that instant. Instead, I was forced to have no choice but to spin on my heel and flee up the staircase and back to my car. My fingers nearly dropped my car keys as I struggled to unlock my vehicle, but I somehow managed to keep the small, metal loop wrapped loosely within my grip. It was only when I was miles away from the not-so-abandoned train warehouse that I allowed myself to brush away my frightened, confused tears and realized that this would be the first time Derek had ever convinced me to truly run away from him.

* * *

"Here you go, Brown. Good luck."

Raising my eyebrows at the hefty stack of papers shoved directly in front of me by the particularly grouchy doctor whose name I continued to have memory lapses on, I couldn't help but chew on the inside of my cheek to stop myself from sighing. Instead, a soft gust of air escaped from my nose as I let my heavy eyelids slip closed hopefully just a moment. Honestly, how could each and every doctor employed at Beacon Hills Hospital consistently procrastinate to hand the desk attendants their paperwork, leaving a mountain of work for me or some other unfortunate worker to hastily file it all away or else _we _would get chewed out by our supervisor. It was a vicious cycle that refused to be broken, and one that I was slowly getting used to.

"Problem, Jane?" came the sharp voice of Denise, my precise supervisor who could spot any anomaly involving the front desk from a mile away.

Not even realizing that my tired eyes had continued remain shut, I hastily opened them and glanced all around me, finally spotting the petite, stocky older woman with short, dirty blonde hair that just barely brushed against the sharp tip of her chin standing right over my shoulder, her perfectly arched eyebrow cocked down at me. Offering her a slightly weak smile, I replied quietly, "Sorry. Just a little tired."

"Long night?"

The flashes of Isaac huddled at the base of the wall, his shadow-riddled, curly-haired head cradled in his trembling hands, and Derek's penetrating, crimson red eyes boring down into mine nearly caused me to wince, but I swallowed down the abrupt lump forming in the back of my throat and nodded my head. "I'll be fine though," I told her, despite my body's aching desire for my warm bed miles and miles away from the hospital.

"Good," said Denise and, with a curt nod, she slipped away from the front desk and disappeared down the corridor.

Stretching my short fingers through my tangled mess of dark brown hair, I sighed once more and prepared myself for the hours and hours of work that would, no doubt, last me for the rest of my shift. It was fortunately a slow late morning start for the hospital, so it would give me plenty of free alone time to hurry up and get this paperwork organized properly. However, just as I situated myself as comfortable as possible in my swiveling chair, I was startled by the sound of two Styrofoam cups being clapped down on the desk right before my eyes.

"Hi," beamed Gavin, standing quite high above me with that all-too-familiar lopsided grin plastered on his handsome face. Rain drops were pasted to his golden brown hair, reminding me that it probably would've been a smart idea to bring an umbrella with me instead of leaving it carelessly in my car. Despite the rain, Gavin was as calm and cheerful as usual; it seemed that nothing could stifle that brilliant smile that flashed down at me now.

"Hi," I replied, my own smile slipping back onto my face despite my exhaustion. To be honest, it was just a relief to see a friend that wouldn't remind me of the supernatural disasters that seemed to just plant themselves into my life. And I had never actually been visited by a friend at work—it was a pleasant surprise that embedded a warm, lovely sensation low in my stomach. Realizing that he might not have actually even been there to see me, I added rather curiously, "What are you doing here? Are you okay?"

Waving away my concern with his long fingers, Gavin said with that adorable smile, "Honestly, you worry way too much. What makes you think something would be wrong just by me visiting a hospital?"

Cocking a sarcastic eyebrow at him, I couldn't help but ask while biting back an amused smile, "You do realize what you just said, right?"

"Yeah, I heard it," he said, nonetheless still plastering that albeit slightly embarrassed smile on his face. A pair of my younger female co-workers passed by, one gazing at Gavin rather appreciatively while the other was glancing rather curiously at the sliding glass, main entrance doors. Ignoring the strange distraction, I glanced back at Gavin's face just as he continued, "However, if you _must _know, I actually came here to see you. I haven't seen you around in a while, and I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Classes at the gym haven't been the same without you—even some of the girls are starting to ask about you."

Smiling warmly up at him and praying that my genuine appreciation was visible on my face, I told him, "That's sweet of you, Gavin. Honestly though, I'm fine. It's just been a little…hectic lately with everything going on. You don't need to worry about me though. Really, I'm fine."

"You do realize you say that a lot, right?" he quipped.

"Say what?" I asked.

"'I'm fine'," he replied in a slightly feminine tone that easily brought about a bout of rather girlish laughter from me. "You say that phrase more than anyone else I've ever known. It must be a personal motto for you."

"Oh god," I couldn't help but laugh again, shaking my head at his odd ability to catch my repeating of that all-too familiar phrase. "Really though, I'm—"

"Fine?" Gavin offered.

"Oh shut up," I told him, relieved to find that some of my exhaustion had slipped away as I continued to speak to him. Glancing down at the two Styrofoam cups still sitting on the desk to my left, I asked curiously, "What's with the two cups?"

"Well, one's for you," replied Gavin, pushing the cup towards me that abruptly flooded my senses with the scent of freshly brewed coffee. While it was a lovely smell, I was ultimately reminded of my dislike for coffee. Fortunately, Gavin was unable to catch _that _in my eyes as he continued to beam and added, "I hope you like cream and sugar."

Just as I opened my mouth to thank him for the sweet gesture, an exceptionally familiar voice drifted over Gavin's shoulder and quietly said, "She doesn't like coffee. She only likes tea. Black tea."

In an instant, all of the breath within my lungs was flushed out of me, my face burning pink as Derek stepped from behind Gavin and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with him. His damp, jet black hair was pasted to his forehead, drops still clinging to the soft, worn leather of his leather jacket, but it was his intense, forest green gaze that continued to stare directly at me that made my stomach instantly tightly squeeze into tangled knots. So many questions instantly filtered into my mind—what was he doing here? Was something wrong? Was Isaac alright? Was he still furious at me for the strange night before? After a brief moment, Derek finally acknowledged Gavin's existence by looking over at Gavin with an air of poorly stifled contempt, who was glancing rather confusedly between Derek and myself.

Realizing this probably would be an appropriate time to introduce them, I somehow managed to open my mouth and stammer out, "Gavin, this is Derek, an….old friend of mine. Derek, this is—"

"Gavin Johnson," Gavin interrupted me, smoothly outstretching his open hand to Derek with a shockingly calm expression despite Derek's obvious disinterest in him. "I'm a close friend of Jane's. Strange, she's never mentioned you at all to me before."

A rather amused smirk managed to slink its way to Derek's lips as he continued to watch Gavin for just a half-second before moving to shake Gavin's hand. In that tiny moment I realized that, while Derek may have been a couple inches shorter than Gavin, he was certainly broader and carried much more power even in his gaze than Gavin could ever muster. However, as soon as Derek gripped his hand, my mind was instantly revolving around the grimace that sprouted on Gavin's face as he nearly gasped out in pain.

"Nice to meet you," said Derek almost pleasantly as he finally released Gavin's hand, much to both his relief and mine as well. Ignoring the younger man as he glanced down at his crushed fingers in shock, Derek turned back towards me and, leaning over the counter, said lowly, "We need to talk. Now."

Forcing myself to tear my gaze away from Gavin's aghast face, I frowned up at the dark-haired man and, despite the bizarre scene that had transpired before me, began to ask him what was going on when Gavin snapped, "Hey, you don't need to speak to her like that."

Catching the spark of annoyance flickering within Derek's penetrating gaze as he returned to his full height and began to turn back to light-haired man, possibly gearing for a fight, I hurriedly glanced back at Gavin and said pleadingly, "Really, it's fine."

"No, it's not," he argued. "You're just going to sit there and let him—"

"Gavin," I cut him off, pushing a firmer touch into my tone as I continued to stare at him, "I'm fine. I honestly have to get back to work anyways, so why don't I call you later? Please?"

Clearly not convinced that I was "fine" as I had so eloquently put it, Gavin just sighed and said, "Alright."

But, just as I was expecting him to stride out of the hospital, he leaned forward and pressed his lips gently on my cheek. For just one moment, I had no choice but to gaze blankly up at Derek, whose eyes remained planted directly on me. Before I could even respond or even comprehend what the _hell _was happening, Gavin offered one last glare to Derek, who refused to allow a shred of emotion flicker on his own face, and walked out of the hospital lobby, disappearing out of the main entrance doors.

* * *

**Wow this was a long one! I hope you all enjoyed it though! I personally have to say that I really liked writing that last scene between Gavin and Derek—it was one that I was planning on writing for quite a while now. Well, please don't forget to leave a review behind and let me know what you thought!**


	8. Chapter Eight

**I have to say, I really do have some of the best readers on this website. You all are so loyal and kind, and I really do appreciate how much effort you all put into your reviews. (: Thank you so much for the wonderful words you've left me—they continue to help me work on this story and keep my muse fresh and alive. Well, without further ado, here is the next chapter of "Howl". **

**Favorite Line:**

"_Are you always so untrusting, Miss Brown? You seem a little…young to be so unwilling to trust strangers."_

* * *

Back in Portland, my social life had been, to be honest, virtually non-existent. Most of my free time was spent either constantly studying for upcoming exams that weren't even scheduled yet or keeping up with the daily chores within my own household. With my father consistently running off to the police station and working overtime hours practically every night, it was up to me to take care of the cooking, cleaning, and even, when I was a little older, the monthly bills that kept our living conditions as normal as possible for a single father and his lonely daughter. Well, I suppose lonely might not have been the correct word to use—while I certainly didn't have many friends, I had always been positive that I was satisfied with my life. No matter what, I had my books to read, the few adults that my father knew who had always made sure to take care of me, and, of course, my father.

Unfortunately, with my rather boring social life came my complete and utter lack of romantic ties to just about anyone. All of the boys in my school had been quite immature and more interested in the girls who would rush off to the mall and the movies after school instead of the library or the police station. Sure, there had been a couple boys that I'd ended up having crushes on, and even one childhood friend who I had managed to kiss when I was just thirteen years old, but I had always lacked in the romance field. I had never experienced anyone sweeping me off my feet or a real date. And I especially had never, ever had the luxury of having two men go toe to toe over me before.

Watching as Gavin disappeared from the hospital lobby, leaving only the tense silence between Derek and myself, I still wasn't even all that positive about what had just happened right before me. Certainly Gavin hadn't meant anything by that peck on my cheek, right? We had always just been friends who had laughed and joked with one another—never, ever had I made it obvious to him that I was actually looking for a boyfriend or a protector of any kind. But then, why had he gone and acted so…possessive over me, right in front of a man he had only just met? None of it really made sense to my jumbled, sleep-deprived mind.

Realizing that Derek was still gazing silently down at me, I somehow managed to push myself to blink away my pure puzzlement and turn back towards him, pressing my lips together as I struggled to find something, anything to say to him. Finally, unwilling to listen to his stony silence for any longer, I asked him, "What did you need to talk to me about?"

If Derek was affected by my inability to discuss the events that had transpired between him and Gavin, he didn't show it. Instead, he nodded towards the filing room door behind the front desk and quietly suggested, "Can we talk in there?"

Glancing around to make sure that no one was keeping an eye on us—fortunately, with it being such a slow day, most of the doctors and administrators were locked in their offices in hopes of catching up on their last bit of paperwork—I nodded. Hesitating as I almost reached my fingers out to grasp at his hand to lead him, I instead clenched my hands into tight fists as I allowed Derek to follow me into the empty filing room. As soon as his broad-shouldered form slipped through the doorway, I calmly closed the door behind him and turned back to face him.

Derek's eyes initially were glancing around at the filing cabinet-lined walls, hesitating at the sunshine streaming through the tiny window that was just barely cracked. It took me just a moment to realize that he was effectively avoiding my gaze, perhaps due to what happened just moments before, or even because of the events of the night before. Nonetheless, I crossed my arms across my chest and asked, "What's going on, Derek?"

Finally his forest green eyes glanced down at me, penetrating so sharply through me that I was positive he could see my insides squirming just from those achingly familiar eyes. "A girl came in here about an hour ago from the high school," he eventually explained in a calm, level voice, differing greatly from when he had screamed at me the night before to flee from his temporary home. "She was having an epileptic seizure. Did you see her?"

Frowning and allowing my arms to slip back down to my sides, I replied slowly, "Yeah, I did see her come in. From what I heard, she wasn't taking her medicine and it caused her to snap." Narrowing my eyes at him, I added suspiciously, "What do you need from her?"

"I just need you to tell me what room she's in," was all Derek was able to tell me.

In an instant, fury lashed at my insides as I realized _this _was why Derek had travelled all the way down to the hospital to speak to me about. Not to inform me of Isaac's current state, which I had been wondering about all morning long as I prepared for my long day at work, nor to explain what had caused his abrupt transformation the night before, and not even to discuss the kiss that had transpired right before that horrific moment. He had been so desperate to act so aggressive and macho in front of Gavin, and yet he simply wanted to find this poor teenage girl to, no doubt, offer his hand to her and invite her to the ranks of his pack. Struggling to keep my voice from trembling, I firmly told him, "No."

"What?" Derek asked now, acting actually startled that I was unwilling to give him what he needed.

"No," I repeated coolly. "I won't tell you which room she's in."

The tension growing tenfold in a matter of moments, Derek shook his head and unleashed a soft, sarcastic chuckle. "You've got to be kidding me, Jane," he told me. "You were so determined to help me in the past—and now you don't even want to bother helping me by just giving me a room number?"

"I wanted to help you when what you were doing was right," I snapped at him, tilting my chin up stubbornly and glaring angrily at him. "This isn't right, Derek. Don't you realize that? You're exploiting the weaknesses of children, and for what? What's the point of building your pack so blindly that you're making reckless decisions left and right?"

"You have no idea what you're talking about," Derek scoffed, rolling his eyes as he went to shove past me and reach the door.

"Are you even listening to yourself?" I asked him, unable to comprehend the transformation that was occurring right before my eyes. "Do you have any idea who you sound like right now?"

Abruptly Derek hesitated before turning back to me, the irritation continuing to build in his harsh gaze as he coolly asked, "And who would that be, Jane? Please, do inform me."

"I'm not sure," I replied quietly. "Right now it's a tie between the man whose throat you slashed just a few months ago and the woman who kidnapped me and tortured me with a cattle prod."

If there was ever a second when I was positive that the thought of striking me drifted into his mind, it was that moment when I released those blunt words. Instead Derek simply froze, staring at me with such cold fury licking at his eyes as he practically trembled with his pent-up rage. Crimson red flashed right before my eyes, but it hardly affected me as I continued to gaze at him with my own poorly stifled anger. Finally he managed to swallow that overpowering wrath and say with such an icy resolve chills rushed up and down my stiffened spine, "I'm done here."

"No you're not," I snarled, hastily rushing past him and pressing my back against the filing room door, momentarily locking him in there. "We still need to talk—"

"Get out of my way, Jane," snapped Derek irritably, wasting no time to take an imposing step towards me in obvious hopes of frightening me away. Unfortunately for him, it wasn't going to work—not this time.

"What happened last night?" I asked him stubbornly, refusing to budge from the surface of the dark wooden door.

Instantly distancing himself from me with a frustrated roll of his eyes, Derek kept his back turned me to, acting as if the filing cabinets surrounding us would offer him the answers he was searching for. He coolly replied, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Like hell you don't," I shot back at him, not fully believing that _this _was how he was going to play off the traumatic events from the night before. He couldn't just sweep the events of last night under the rug—I at least deserved some sort of explanation. "You know exactly what I'm asking about—you're just too damn stubborn to explain it to me. I'll ask you again—what happened to you last night?"

"It's nothing to concern yourself with, Jane," responded Derek, his tone remaining hard and emotionless as he finally spun on his heel and glared down at me. It was his penetrating gaze that instantly caused me to hesitate. While his voice may have been toneless, his eyes revealed the desperation for me to leave this subject alone, at least for now.

I almost caved just then, just after gazing up into his those forest green eyes. But then I decided to take a slightly different route. Softening my tone ever so slightly, I questioned him gently, "Derek…what happened? Why did you begin to change just after…after what happened between us?"

Initially Derek just shook his head, appearing speechless as he clenched his jaw and refused to meet my gaze any longer. Instead he glared at the door behind me, penetrating eyes seemingly determined to cut through the thick wood of the door and watch the inner-workings of the hospital lobby. "I don't…," he began, shifting his eyes back to me. Instantly he stopped, his voice trailing off into the tensely forming silence between us. Abruptly Derek tersely asked, "Do you have feelings for Gavin?"

"W-What?" I stammered out, utterly thrown by the randomness and absurdity of his question. I had been so entrapped in his determination to avoid the subject of his abrupt transformation the night before, and yet he had managed to swiftly change the subject to…Gavin? "What are you talking about?" I asked, truly flabbergasted.

"Come on, Jane," was all Derek offered to me in response, raising his heavy eyebrows ever so slightly to convey his lack of belief in my surprise.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I told him genuinely. "Gavin's just a friend—that's all he's ever been."

"Apparently that's not what he thinks," said Derek shortly, rolling his eyes apparently at just the thought of my loyal friend. Catching my puzzled expression, he coolly added, "His heartbeat spikes whenever you even give him a second glance. He's completely infatuated with you. Not to mention he almost had a stroke when you look—"

Before Derek could finish his sentence, the door I was still stubbornly leaning against pitched open, nearly sending me flying onto the tile floor. Fortunately Derek managed to swiftly catch me in his strong arms, his calloused hands tightly clutching my arms as I was saved from smacking my face on the floor spanning below my feet. Glancing up into his forest green eyes, my own eyes no doubt wider than saucers, I barely noticed the vaguely familiar nurse blinking at the both of us in surprise.

"Sorry," said the middle-aged woman dressed in pale green scrubs, her frizzy red hair tied back in a loose pony-tail. "I didn't think anyone was in here."

At the sound of the nurse's startled voice, Derek instantly released me from his grip, as if my pale skin had managed to instantaneously catch flame. Without offering me a single glance, he shrugged past the frowning nurse and disappeared through the doorway, no doubt storming out of the lobby and out into the cool morning air.

"It's Jane, right?" said the nurse, still offering me a puzzled frown. At my distant nod, she added gently, "Are you alright?"

To be honest, I wasn't even sure if I had an actual answer to honestly respond with. Finally, after swallowing the lump forming in the back of my throat, I glanced up at her and, with a weak smile, managed to quietly say, "I'm fine. Just fine."

* * *

By the end of my shift that late afternoon, I was all too ready to chock up that day as possibly one of my worst shifts ever since I first started at Beacon Hills Hospital. Just about an hour after Derek had left, a slew of people began rushing into the hospital with bleeding injuries and broken bones that seemed so agonizing that I wanted nothing more than to wince. Fortunately I was able to stifle my empathy and help keep them calm and patient until an RN was able to come and lead them to their eventual healing. The only problem that came with the abrupt rush was my inability to finish my paperwork, forcing Denise to lecture me on my working speed. She'd been more than happy to inform me that, even though I was younger than most of the staff that she supervised, she had expected more from me. All in all, it was nothing less than an absolutely miserable day, and I was more than prepared to go home, crawl into some pajamas, and finish up my homework before somehow getting some much needed sleep.

As I nudged the strap of my tote bag farther up my shoulder, I slipped out of the hospital's main entrance doors, noticing the small group of people milling about outside, some smoking and others chatting in the cool night air. I caught myself smiling gently at a particularly adorable, young boy with a messy mop of jet black hair, bright blue eyes, and a quizzical frown plastered on his tiny face. Beaming after actually earning a returning smile from him, I went to step onto the smooth, fresh pavement of the parking lot, fully prepared to search for my car.

"Miss Brown?"

Furrowing my brow at the completely unfamiliar voice, I turned on my heel and found an elderly man sitting on a bench to my right, his surprisingly sharp, dark brown eyes that looked vaguely familiar narrowed directly at my face. As he slowly pushed himself onto his feet, hands flat on the stone bench to keep his balance, I noticed the spurts of pale gray hair sprouting up from the sides of his head. He was clad in a long, black winter coat, hands instantly burying themselves into his deep pockets as soon as he was standing on his own. Catching me studying him rather curiously, the older man smiled almost serenely and said, "Hello, Jane. I don't believe we've met."

Despite his calm, gravelly voice, I couldn't stifle my urge to cross my arms over my chest and anxiously take a step away from him. "And yet you know my name," I replied, unwilling to return his small smile.

Offering a genuine chuckle, the elder man continued to smile as he said, "Are you always so untrusting, Miss Brown? You seem a little…young to be so unwilling to trust strangers."

"It's in my blood, I'm afraid," I responded, continuing to keep my distance from the strange man. "For someone who I have never met, you seem to know quite a bit about me." Despite his silence, the way he surveyed me with those odd, dark brown eyes made me feel as if he had known me my whole life.

"Well, I do like to do a little research on the friends of my relatives. Especially the close friends of my granddaughter."

Instantly my back stiffened as I realized just why this man's eyes had seemed so relatively familiar to me. Catching my reaction, the man continued to smile placidly as he continued, "Ah, I see you have caught on to my identity. I suppose I should fully introduce myself now—I am Gerard Argent. Allison's grandfather, if you haven't figured that out yet."

Arms still crossed my over my chest, I tightened my fists so sharply that I was positive my nails were digging into the soft flesh of my palms. Nonetheless, I frowned up at Gerard Argent and coolly said, "I'm afraid you've wasted your time researching me, Mr. Argent. Allison and I haven't spoken in quite a few months. We've had some…differences in the past and haven't been as close as we used to be."

"I was actually quite curious about that, Jane," replied Mr. Argent, seeming hardly surprised by my description of my lack of friendship with Allison. "What were these differences that you two had? It seemed you both were quite close in the past."

Considering how I could hardly tell him about how Allison's aunt—possibly this man's daughter, now that I thought about it—kidnapping me and torturing me with a cattle prod had managed to push us apart to two completely different spectrums, I simply tilted my chin up stubbornly and said, "You'll have to ask Allison about that, Mr. Argent. I don't particularly feel comfortable speaking about our business with someone I've never met before."

"Perhaps I will," smiled Mr. Argent. One of his hands slipped out of his pocket, clutching a tiny, silver container that he overturned into his open palm. Before I could get a glimpse of just what type of pills were clutched in his hand, Mr. Argent tossed the medicine into his mouth, swallowing them dry. Continuing to watch me, he added, "I'm actually in town for my daughter's funeral. You didn't happen to meet Allison's aunt, Kate, did you?"

Vivid flashes of Kate Argent's smirking face as she dug her cattle prod into my side and her gleeful eyes as she listened to my screams forced a reluctant shudder down my spine, a reaction that Mr. Argent did not overlook. Continuing to grimace up at him, I coldly replied, "I may have spoken to her once."

Ignoring my cold tone, the older man curiously said, "You know, it's interesting. Just before her death, I received an interesting voicemail from my daughter, explaining that she had happened to run into an old flame of hers and it seemed that he had moved on quite easily from her. You wouldn't happen to know anything about this, would you, Jane?"

Realizing the twisted turn that our "light" conversation had taken, I allowed myself to smirk ever so slightly as I replied, "I think you and I both know the answer to that, Mr. Argent."

Seemingly unfazed by my response, Gerard Argent simply nodded his head and, continuing to smile that irksome grin, said, "That I do, Miss Brown. That I do. I just have to say that I can't help but see the resemblance between you and my daughter. Both feisty, both willing to fight for what they believe in. Those are some high-quality attributes to have, I must say."

"But not as high-quality as orchestrating a plan to trap an entire family in a burning home, right?" I couldn't help but snipe at him. I vaguely remembered Kate's words before Peter ripped her throat out, about how she had simply been following her father's orders that night of the Hale fire. This man had just as much responsibility for lighting that match as Kate did. Glancing down at the watch wrapped tightly on my thin wrist, I barely gave Mr. Argent a chance to respond before adding coolly, "Well, I'm sorry, Mr. Argent, but I'm afraid I have to cut this conversation short. I have quite a long night ahead of me, and I must be heading home."

"It was quite a delight meeting you, Miss Brown," smirked Mr. Argent.

"I wish I could say the same," I smiled tightly back at him.

Just as I turned sharply on my heel and began to stride towards the parking lot, my hands continuing to clench into trembling fists, Mr. Argent's words, dripping in sarcasm, drifted towards me through the cool night air. "Do give my best to Derek, will you?" Refusing to even give him one last glance, I continued to hurriedly walk towards my car, ready to put as much distance as possible between this strange old man and myself.

* * *

**And that's the end of this chapter! I hope you all enjoyed it! It's not as long as the last one, I know, but I can promise you that the next one should be really, really good. (: I'll also be introducing another character that you all should be familiar with. Well, thank you all for reading, and please don't forget to leave a review! **


	9. Chapter Nine

**As always, you guys never cease to amaze me. Your reviews have continued to help keep my muse fresh and motivated, and I have really pushed to hurry up and get this chapter up as soon as possible. I'm on vacation from work for three weeks now, so I should have plenty of time to continue working on this story and hopefully getting a good chunk of the second season done. I'm actually going to twist some of the events of the second season—they'll still occur, just in a slightly different order. You'll see in this chapter and the next one what I'm talking about. Thank you to all of those who have reviewed, and please keep them coming. (: Without further ado, here is the next installment of "Howl":**

**Favorite Line:**

"_I'm sick of wasting my time."_

* * *

Oh, this was such a bad idea.

After another quick glance over at my passenger seat for what must have been the tenth time since I had set out from my apartment, I was positive that I was going to regret this decision. Surely this would end badly, right? It seemed like such a recipe for disaster, and yet I continued to keep my sneaker pressed against the gas pedal, travelling down to the Warehouse District at a reasonable pace. Ignoring the loitering bystanders on the sidewalk who were casting glances that lasted far longer than they should have at my black car, I continued driving along the familiar road, casting an occasional glance down at that damn box every so often.

The contents of the cardboard box were hardly spectacular. I had managed to scavenge some useful supplies—pillows, toothbrushes, tooth paste, soap, blankets, even a few books that I had been willing to part with, along with several other small items—and thrown them into the recycled box. It was the necessities that the Derek's budding pack would no doubt find themselves requiring, and ones that I was able to offer to them. I had managed to construct the list during my Statistics class that day while Professor Tucker's sleep-inducing lecture threatened to put the entire class into a coma. As soon as I had managed to escape the campus without being spotted by the one friend I had managed to make in my classes, I had hastily made my way back to my apartment, collected what I could find, and returned to my car with the increasingly familiar box.

Thinking of that one friend, I found myself wincing as I glanced down at my phone silently sitting in my cup-holder. Gavin had called me quite a few times since that awkward morning, but I hadn't been able to bring myself to answer it. No doubt Gavin would want me to explain how I even knew Derek and, of course, describe my past with him. Just thinking about his utter confusion of my "friendship" with Derek was complicated enough—I didn't exactly have the nerve to try to explain it to an outsider, not now at least.

Shaking my head of those frustrating thoughts, I focused instead of the craggy pavement spanning before my headlights. The glaring sun was just a few hours from completely dipping below the horizon line, painting the high sky with streaks of pale pinks and deep, rich purples. It was enough to mesmerize any spectator, but I was forced to tear my eyes away from the stunning sky and, instead, narrow my gaze at the quickly approaching abandoned train warehouse.

As always, the parking lot was deserted as I pulled into the empty stretch of land and switched my vehicle's engine off. Despite the thick, heavy heat beginning to creep into my silent car, I allowed myself to remain sitting there for several extra moments. This hadn't just been a random idea that had managed to pop into my head. The guilt in my mind from how, after completely losing my temper with him, I had managed to compare Derek to both his psychotic uncle and Kate Argent had continued to weigh on my mind for a couple days now. No matter how drunk Derek was becoming with his newfound power, he would never be as crazed as either of those maniacs. I would always, always believe that, no matter what happened between us. But he just had made me so furious with his unwillingness to explain what had happened the night before—I had just been determined to hurt him just as much as he had hurt me countless times before.

Barely even realizing that a lump was forming in the back of my throat, I shook my head and, after taking in several deep breaths, managed to tug my long, thick hair into a tight pony-tail. Hopefully Derek would see that I was at least trying to be civil and that this was a distorted form of an apology. Tucking my car keys into my pocket, I stepped out of the car, the dark denim of my jeans already starting to cling to my legs from the heavy wave of the heat settling over all of Beacon Hills. Vaguely thinking of a spare fan my grandmother had given to me hidden deep in my closet that may be useful in the air condition-less basement, I strode towards my passenger side and, a moment later, was straightening up from the seat, the cardboard box clasped tightly in my abruptly trembling arms.

Realizing that there was no turning back now, I walked towards the familiar front door and, after juggling the rather heavy box so I could use my free hand to twist the metal door knob, slipped into the sticky, humid lobby. With light now streaming through the open door, I was able to catch sight of the thick layers of dust caked on every flat surface in the entire foyer. Only the footprints within the dirt and decay on the damaged wooden floors, some smaller than others, showed any hint of human life within the ancient warehouse.

Just as I reached my hand back to close the door, I caught the sound of heavy footsteps, instantly forcing me to freeze. Still refusing to move an inch, I watched with wide eyes as a tall, burly older boy—although he looked like he could easily be in his early twenties—revealed himself, his calm, coal black eyes barely blinking as he searched for the disturbance within the warehouse. His smooth skin was the warm color of freshly brewed coffee, even peeking through atop his shaved head. The boy stood at least two heads over me, reminding me that there certainly must be something in the Beacon Hills' water supply that was causing nearly everyone to randomly sprout up like weeds. His chest was broad, his bare arms frighteningly muscled as he was clearly stocky before his transformation. A wide nose was flattened on his face, thick lips tracing a deep frown as he finally stared directly at me.

"Hi," I said, breaking the tense silence between us as I realized how bad this must look for what must have been a brand new beta. An intruder, one that had yet to be introduced to the pack, was hardly a good introduction for anyone.

"Who are you?" asked the teenage boy, his deep voice reverberating throughout the once-silent foyer.

"Sorry, I-I'm Jane," I replied, offering him what I hoped was a friendly smile. "I'm an old friend of Derek's." The phrase was becoming far too familiar to me—it now dangled from my lips naturally, as if I had been repeating it for hours on end.

"Are you a…"

"I'm human," I answered him quickly. "Not an Argent, I can assure you of that much. But I'm not a werewolf either. I'm just…a friend, I guess."

His eyes narrowly crawling up and down my form as he clearly considered whether my brief description was believable or not, the boy eventually said coolly, "I didn't know Derek had any friends."

Unable to stifle my scoff, I couldn't help but tell him, "Yeah, he doesn't have too many of those. He's not exactly the friendly type—I know that all too well."

As the boy's jaw unclenched ever so slightly, he nonetheless peeked rather curiously into the box still clutched in my arms, his eyes betraying his obvious distrust of me. "What's in there?" he asked.

"Oh," I said, nearly forgetting about the entire reason I had even taken a drive down to the train warehouse. Switching my gaze down to said box, I continued, "It's just a few things I figured you guys would need down here. Pillows, blankets, the necessities. With Isaac having to keep a low profile and Derek's…well, I guess I figured I could just help you guys out. It's the least I could do."

Glancing back up, I was startled by the genuinely surprised expression pasted on the boy's handsome face. "That's…uh, that's really nice of you."

"It's no big deal," I said bashfully, flushing slightly under his gaze now. Forcing myself to turn away from his face and instead glancing at that familiar staircase, I inched towards it and asked, "So, is anyone else here?"

"They're all downstairs," replied the boy, taking a step forward and reaching for the box. "I can take that to them, if you—"

"That's alright," I interrupted him, easily stepping out of his path and taking a few more strides towards the staircase. "I can take it down there myself. Thanks anyways though…uh…"

"It's Boyd," he answered immediately, clearly catching how I was fishing for his name. "Are you sure? That looks a little bit heavy."

"Boyd," I told him, struggling to stifle my amused smile, "I know I may seem a little small to you since, you know," I waved my free hand at his impressive stature**,** "you're quite a tall individual. I can assure you though that I can handle carrying a box down the stairs."

Although he looked slightly taken aback, a slight smirk eventually crept its way onto Boyd's face as he took a step away and allowed me to lead the way down to the basement. Whatever I had said seemed to make him warm up ever so slightly to me, which was honestly a relief. I didn't need the young Beta breathing down my neck as I stressed over how Derek would respond to me entering his abode without his knowledge once again.

The heavy thud of a body clattering to the ground instantly rushed to my ears, forcing me to hesitate as I glanced back in puzzlement back at Boyd. He hardly sounded surprised by the sound and, supposing that his hearing was just as ridiculously strong as Derek's and Scott's, I had no choice but to continue descending the staircase. Once I was low enough to where I could peek through the wooden railing, I was initially just able to get a glimpse of Derek standing, clad in just dark jeans and a white undershirt, his skin slightly smeared with dirt and grease, as he glared down at the two people strewn out on the floor.

The first was the all-too familiar face of Isaac, his face pale and sweaty as he wiped the back of his hand across his smooth forehead. Appearing remarkably growing, his chest was heaving up and down, his lungs clearly desperate to be supplied with extra oxygen. He apparently hadn't even heard my footsteps, for his sky blue eyes were still staring directly at Derek, who was glaring at both him and the other person lying beside him.

This one I was quite positive I had never met before. A curtain of perfectly curled, golden blonde hair streamed out of her head, gently brushing onto the concrete floor in delicate waves. Tanned skin stretched across her entire body, even to the tip of her button nose and the soft curves of her manicured fingernails. Gentle curves protruded from her slender body, her clothing oddly tight for the exercise that she was currently working on. It was her eyes though—great, big, and the smooth shade of amber—that startled me, as they were also narrowed up at Derek with this pure arrogance and some other emotions that I had never witnessed before.

Could this have been the girl that Derek had been searching for at the hospital? It was difficult to decipher her age as, like Boyd and even Isaac now that I saw him in the fresh sunlight, she appeared to be in her late teens or early twenties. There must have been something in that bite from an Alpha that accelerated the aging in the bitten individual, I couldn't help but muse as I studied the curvy girl. Whatever was infused with the bite, it surely must have cured her epilepsy, if this was indeed the girl from the hospital. Ignoring the budding annoyance growing within me that Derek had, once again, completely ignored my advice and went on with this dangerous plan to recruit vulnerable teenagers, I shifted my gaze from the two Betas to their Alpha.

Derek must not have heard my entrance as well, for he was slowly striding away from the fallen pair, his hands clenching into tight fists as he began, "Does anyone want to try _not_ being completely predictable?"

Just as he went to turn on his heel to face his Betas, the young girl gracefully glided to her feet and streamed over to him. Before I could even blink, her long legs were wrapped around his waist, fingers curled at the base of his neck as mine once had in the past, and her lips were tangled with his.

It was as if time had completely stalled on me. Freezing about three-quarters of the way down the staircase, blankly I was forced to watch on as this strange blonde girl continued to, no doubt, stick her tongue directly down Derek's throat. Whatever emotion was on my face, I had no idea—I was far too concerned with my now trembling hands clasping at the cardboard box, my sweaty palms threatening to allow it to tumble down the stairs. An invisible fist abruptly shoved itself into my stomach, oxygen tumbling from me in one single, sharp gasp. Whether Boyd had noticed my reaction, I'll never know for sure—my wide eyes were only for the couple tangled up in one another.

So this was what heartbreak felt like.

Abruptly Derek flung the girl away from him, forcing her to clatter to the hard concrete ground once more. Her expression was a mixture of disappointment and confidence, as if she was positive this wouldn't be the last time she would lock lips with her Alpha. Fortunately, I didn't have a chance to allow my gaze to linger on her face for too much longer—slowly I found myself turning back to Derek, whose penetrating forest green eyes were staring directly at me, his expression utterly unreadable.

Before Derek or I had a chance to emit a single word, Isaac followed the former's gaze and instantly grinned at the sight of me. "Jane," he said, staggering to his feet, wincing ever so slightly at the tenderness of his injuries as I was forced to finish my descending, "I didn't know you were coming by today."

Weakly returning his smile and genuinely relieved that I couldn't even get but barely a glimpse of Derek's face, I replied quietly, "It was just a split-second decision. I figured I'd bring some things from my place that you guys might need." Casting a quick glance around the basement and just managing to avoid acknowledging Derek or the blonde girl whatsoever, I added, "It seems like this place could use some sprucing up."

"I'll just be happy not to sleep on the floor," said Isaac, offering me another warm smile before gently plucking the box from my weakening grip. "Hey," he mentioned, flushing slightly now under my gaze, "I just wanted to say, uh, I'm sorry about the other night—"

"The other night?" I repeated, wrinkling my brow in confusion.

Rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand awkwardly, Isaac responded, "When I, you know, almost attacked you—"

"Don't worry about it," I cut him off instantly. "It was the full moon and you weren't exactly in your right mind—I think you can use that as an excuse, Isaac."

As he appreciatively nodded and went to stick the box on the work bench behind him, I abruptly realized that I now had no choice but to turn back around and actually allow my gaze to settle on Derek. Figuring I could use another distraction, I forced myself to smile at the blonde girl. She was watching me with almost cat-like eyes, surveying my every move with an itching impatience and frustration. Ignoring the strange mixture of emotions, I offered my hand out and gently told her in an only slightly shaking voice, "I don't think we've met. I'm Jane Brown."

Eyeing my outstretched hand with disdain, the girl kept her long fingers by her sides and instead said coolly, "Erica. I've heard quite a bit about you from Isaac, Jane."

"O-oh?" I couldn't help but stammer out, flushing as I forced my hand back to my own side.

"I have to say though," said Erica, scrutinizing me with those narrowed amber eyes, "I'm a little disappointed. From what I had heard, I had expected you to be a bit…prettier."

Raising my eyebrows at her obviously carefully chosen words, I forced myself to ignore the slight ping in my heart and stoically replied, "I'm sorry to disappoint you then, Erica."

Without even casting a glance around at the man standing only inches away from me, I offered one last smile to Isaac and Boyd, who had exchanged anxious glances, and told them, "I'll see you guys around. It was nice meeting you, Boyd."

Before anyone could utter another word, I hurried up the staircase, unwilling to listen to the chatter that would no doubt break out in my absence. I barely took notice of the dusty foyer, instead digging into my jean pocket for my car keys. Tangled thoughts entrenched themselves into my mind, my forehead continuing to throb with each stride that I took towards my rapidly approaching vehicle**.** Each time I managed to blink eyes, the image of Derek and Erica entangled within each other's arms would burn itself into my retinas, so sharp and vivid that I barely noticed the tears beginning to sprout in my eyes

"Just wait," I whispered to myself, fumbling shakily with my keys as I waited outside of my car door. "Please, just wait." I would be able to completely break down when I was home, or at least a few miles away from the Warehouse District—I just couldn't risk doing it right there, right then.

"Jane."

Initially I froze at the sound of _his _voice, my trembling fingers nearly dropping my keys onto the pavement. Fortunately I was just able to barely catch them with my fingertips. My heartbeat was rapping furiously against my rib cage, no doubt audible to the enhanced hearing of the man standing behind me. Biting down my bottom lip hard to stop myself from saying a single word, I managed to press one button on my car key and catch the comforting sound of my locks unlatching themselves, freeing myself to escape from this horrible nightmare.

"Jane, stop."

Ignoring his soft voice, I allowed myself to hesitate just for a second, my gaze flickering down to my keys, the silver just slightly staining the sensitive tips of my fingers. Was I even willing to face him, after he had just had too-shiny lip gloss smeared all over his face by his own Beta? As that agonizing image flickering in my mind once more, I found myself sniffling, tears dripping down my cheeks and pooling underneath my chin. My fingers finally wrapped around the door handle, wrenching it open as I took a step closer to the door.

Instantly a much-larger hand appeared before my eyes, roughly grabbing a hold of the sharp edge of the window and slamming it shut. "Jane, you just need to listen—"

"WHAT?" I snarled, whirling on Derek and shoving my open palms against his broad chest, barely moving him an inch but curing my desperate need to get him away from me. His face was stoic, clearly expecting this pent-up fury deep within me to eventually unleash itself upon him. "What, Derek?! What could I _possibly _have to listen to? How I shouldn't have bothered showing up here in the first place? Or how you _never _meant for me to see that? Or, wait…" My voice only grew with each word I spewed out in my fiery rage, tears continuing to stream down my cheeks. "Maybe you wanted me to see that—to make me feel like an utter fool for ever caring about you. Well, don't worry, Derek, it worked."

"Jane—"

"And do you want to know what makes me so mad that I want nothing more than to hurt you?!" I continued to shout, stomping all over his attempt to calm me down with my furious words. "It's not that I was an absolute _idiot _for coming here to give you some sort of apology for what I said to you about Peter and Kate. It's because you didn't even bother _acknowledging _what I warned you about turning that girl. If you think she actually understands what happens on a full moon, you're an even bigger fool than she is. But, you know what? I'm done caring about what happens to you and being forced to sit on the sidelines as you make mistake after mistake. I'm sick of wasting my time, Derek. I'm done."

I went to spin on my heel, ready to leave him behind and never see his annoyingly handsome, frowning face ever again, but Derek abruptly reached out and turned me back around. "Will you just let me explain—"

"No," I snapped, ducking under his grip and moving a step closer to my car. "You had plenty of chances to explain everything to me, Derek—ever since we've met, I've been waiting with bated breath for some explanation from you. But, guess what, Derek? I'm sick of waiting. For once, you'll just have to wait for _me _to be ready to listen."

Refusing to give him another chance to even open his mouth, I ripped my door open and, after stumbling into my seat, I slammed the door in his face. Keeping my glaring, watery gaze straight ahead, I backed out of the spot and peeled out of the warehouse parking lot, refusing to give him the satisfaction of allowing him to hear my pitiful sobs for any longer.

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**Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! Please don't forget to leave a review! Thanks again for reading! (:**


	10. Chapter Ten

**20 reviews. 20 reviews and counting have been submitted just for the last chapter of this story. I can't even begin to explain my appreciation for you all—it just blows my mind every time I begin to think about it. I wish there was something more I could do for you all, but, for now, I'll just have to keep pumping out chapters as quickly as I can. (: Without further ado, here is the next installment of "Howl":**

* * *

**Favorite Line:**

_"I'm not a fan of being touched, if you must know. It seemed that your friend was unaware of that."_

* * *

The sole mall tucked deep into Beacon Hills was surprisingly crowded that early evening. With some Homecoming dance fast approaching for the surrounding high schools, there were several groups of giggling teenage girls circling the overstuffed racks of dresses within each and every department store. The crisp sound of hangers sliding noisily along the metal racks and sharp noise of overbearing mothers clucking over dangerously low necklines and ridiculously marked dresses was enough to send any testosterone-riddled person fleeing in the other direction. Unfortunately, there was the occasional brother and boyfriend sulking in the corners, crowding the well-placed seats stationed near the fitting rooms, either checking their phones or simply rolling their eyes in annoyance as they waited for their female counterparts.

While this sight would surely send me straight back to my car, I was forced to chew on my bottom lip to stop from heavily sighing and join the insanity that came with shopping for a dress. Of course, I was hardly searching for something to wear to a silly dance—with the start of college came the utter relief that there would be no more miserable dances to consider attending. Instead, this dress would be for a date that I had foolishly agreed to, one that I was, in a matter of one day, already regretting.

After returning to my apartment, I had been fully prepared to huddle in my bed with a textbook and furiously study away in hope of efficiently erasing the horrible experience that had come with visiting Derek and his newfound pack. I had been searching through my backpack for my notes in my silent kitchen when my cell phone began vibrating loudly within my pocket, nearly causing me to jump out of my skin. Dreading the idea of who it could be—Derek? Stiles? My uncle?—I found myself groaning at the sight of the familiar name flashing on the tiny screen.

Realizing that I had been avoiding his calls for long enough, I had unleashed one last internal groan before answering the phone. "Hello?" I tentatively asked.

"Jane!" exclaimed Gavin in relief, no doubt flailing his arms at his successful attempt at reaching me. "It's about time you answered your damn phone."

"Sorry, Gavin," I said sheepishly, reluctantly realizing that I had been ducking away from him for a little too long now. "I've just been so busy and it's been impossible for me to even get a chance to breathe. I…" Abruptly a fresh wave of tears clogged my throat, forcing me to unleash a horribly weak sobbing sound that even made me grimace. My fingers pressed sharply into my eyes, praying that my tears would just stop streaming down my face.

"Jane," said Gavin, his voice instantly softening as his cell phone seemed to shift from hand to hand, "what's going on? Are you alright?"

Pathetically sniffling, I shook my head, despite his complete inability to see me, and replied, "No, I'm not. For once, I'm not fine."

Despite my horrible attempt at a joke, Gavin still allowed himself to lowly chuckle before saying, "Do you want to talk about it?"

My insides immediately seized up, back stiffening as I realized there was no absolute way that I could ever talk about my issues with Gavin. There were only a handful of people that I could ever speak to, and yet they all seemed like they were miles and miles away. And here was this one man, stretching out his hand with that hopeful, gentle expression that I had never once seen on Derek's face before. Sucking in a breath, I prepared myself to say something, anything; but then my eyes settled on the calendar stuck to my fridge, obnoxiously reminding me that I had another shift at the hospital to look forward in an hour. "I can't," I finally told Gavin, massaging the growing ache embedding itself into my left temple with my trembling fingertips.

"Oh," he responded, disappointment flooding his quiet voice. "I just figured that, well, you could use a friend—"

"It's not like that," I interrupted him. "I really would love to talk to you, but I have to get ready for work tonight. I just don't have any time right now."

"Well, when are you free next?" Gavin asked, his tone peaking ever so slightly. "Let me take you out—we can talk about anything you want."

"Friday night, but—"

"But what?"

I hesitated, chewing on my bottom lip thoughtfully as I considered his reasonable proposition. Surely I had an excuse to avoid this meeting with him, right? Stiles' lacrosse game was that night and, considering this was his team's chance to emerge into the playoffs, I had a duty to attend. Right? Of course, I was hardly a sports fan, let alone could I actually follow an entire game of lacrosse without getting lost in a daydream. But Gavin didn't have to know that. The only problem was that, if I did attend that game, there was always the chance that I could run into some of the other students attending Beacon Hills High. Allison would, no doubt, be cheering for her school's team, which seemed like a perfect recipe for an awkward encounter. And then there was Jackson Whittemore, star player of said lacrosse team and quite possibly still rather furious about my low blow only a week and a half ago. Would it really be so smart to attend a lacrosse game the temperamental boy would be playing in?

"Nothing," I finally told Gavin, shoulders slouching in defeat as I reluctantly came to my decision. "Maybe…maybe it would be good for me to get out for a little bit and have some fun."

"Great," said Gavin, the brilliant smile evident solely in his excited voice. "It's a date then."

Wait, what?

A date? I had figured we were just talking about two friends hanging out for a cup of coffee and a good chat. That's all we were supposed to be, right? But a _date_? This surely had to be a mistake. But then, as I continued to widely gape in pure confusion, Derek's warning about Gavin back at the hospital came rushing back to me—_"Apparently he doesn't think so," _he had told me, regarding the latter's perception of our obvious friendship. But I had been so positive that Derek had been wrong—Gavin had always been friendly with me, sure, but he was like that with all of the girls at the self-defense class. It was normal—we had just seen each other more often because we attended the same school. That was the only difference, right?

In all honesty, I wasn't even positive that I was ready for any type of date, whether it be a platonic one or not. Sure, I had pretty much screamed at Derek to stay the hell away from me that same day, but it didn't destroy my feelings for him. He may have been the most frustrating man I had ever met, not to mention had broken my heart on more than one occasion, but he still was the one person I loved most. Could it be so easy for me to just strip away my feelings for him and actually begin to move on? Of course, he had seemed to be just fine with that idea, considering the passionate embrace I had just witnessed between him and his beta. Shouldn't I be just as okay with my moving on as he apparently was with his?

"Gavin," I began, hesitant as my thoughts continued to battle with one another, "I don't think—"

"Listen, Jane, I have to go," he cut me off, sounding vaguely distracted as I caught the sound of a rush of voices blaring behind him. "My class is about to start and I'm already about to be late. But I'll pick you up on Friday at 6, okay?

"But—"

But nothing—I was left standing in my empty kitchen, clutching my phone to my ear as I wordlessly mouthed my puzzlement into the silence of my one-way phone call. And that was why, to my uttermost chagrin, I stand hesitantly approaching the nearest department store at the Beacon Hills Mall, already regretting my foolish decision to agree to a _date _on that Friday night. Not only would it be incredibly awkward when I was forced to tell Gavin that I only thought of him as a good friend, but now I would have to shell out the money that I didn't even really have on a dress that I would only be wearing once.

In case it wasn't obvious enough, my wardrobe is hardly what anyone would ever consider as fashionable. My entire closet mostly consisted of an endless supply of jeans, soft as flannel from years of wear, simple blouses that had been scavenged at various sale and bargain stores, and an array of colorful flip flops and tennis shoes. Of course, I did happen to own a few anomalies, such as my favorite pair of leather boots that were scuffed beyond belief and a dark blue sweatshirt emblazoned with the emblem of the Portland Police Department that my father had worn every chance he got. But, the one item of clothing that I had yet to purchase was, in fact, a dress. Well, I did own one dress, but it was the one that I had worn to my father's funeral—it wasn't exactly one that I felt like wearing on a date just yet.

My closet's utter lack of a wearable dress forced me out to the mall that very late afternoon, just two days before my supposed date. My nails were already aching to be chewed on as the crowds seemed to increase by the second, but I simply tightened my hands into fists before slipping into the endless racks and began to search for something, anything that would work for Friday night. Surely there had to be something.

After half an hour of browsing, I was quite positive that I was a goner. Everything was either fitted for a size zero or so low cut and dangerously short that I was already tugging on my clothes in embarrassment. I was hardly a prude, but there certainly had to be some dress that didn't make me feel like I would be walking the streets later that night. Wrinkling my nose at the sight of a blood red dress that seemed more like a shirt than an actual dress, I was moments away from completely giving up when I turned on my heel and nearly collided with a petite girl to my left.

"Sorry," I hastily said as I just managed to swerve around her, catching my balance by gripping the rack nearest to me. "I didn't even see you…"

Standing right before me, blinking her narrowed mocha brown eyes as she blew a perfectly curled, strawberry blonde hair out of her frowning face, was none other than Lydia Martin. I hadn't seen the constantly pouting and sulking girl since I had still attended Beacon Hills High School. Although we had met through Allison and had even gone shopping at this same mall before, that had been the extent of our social interactions. She had become easily bored with me, and she was hardly the type of person I was bound and determined to speak with. There was only time her name had even come to my mind, and that was when Stiles had informed me that Peter had attacked her on the same night his throat had been slashed by Derek, and yet she hadn't turned into a werewolf. The strange occurrence had boggled my mind at the time but, with my determination to keep my life as supernatural-free as possible, I allowed Stiles and Scott to be concerned with her condition, and kept my nose clean. But now, as I gazed down at the petite redhead, I realized that perhaps I should've been a bit more concerned with what exactly had happened to her that night.

"I know you," said Lydia, frowning slightly as she clearly tried to remember my face. "How do I know you?"

"I'm Jane Brown," I told her, hardly offended that she didn't recall meeting me. Considering I had only spoken to her a handful of times, it was only understandable. "I'm one of Allison's friends. Or, uh, I was, until…well, it's complicated—"

"Now I remember you," Lydia cut me off, smirking slightly now. "I could recognize that social awkwardness anywhere."

"Uh…thanks?" I couldn't help but raise my eyebrows at both her and my odd behavior. For some reason, those sharp eyes just seemed to make me more nervous than I usually was. Despite her younger age, it seemed that Lydia had the powerful ability to turn anyone completely inside out. Clearing my throat, I said, "Well, I guess I'll see you around, Lydia."

Turning on my heel and just relieved that the conversation was over, I was fully prepared to flee from the store and perhaps just give up on finding a dress. I could get away with wearing a pair of nice jeans, right? But then Lydia's voice forced me to stop completely.

"Aren't you going to ask?" she called after me, causing me to frown as I turned back to face her own unreadable face.

"Ask what?" I asked her, completely lost as to where this was coming from.

"About how I'm doing. Or that night," replied Lydia, bitterness creeping into her annoyed voice. Tossing her hair back, she continued, "Everywhere I go, people are asking me about how I'm doing or feeling or whether I remember what that…that freak did to me. Shouldn't you be like all the rest and just get the questions over with?"

Shaking my head and just being able to stifle my disbelieving laugh, I couldn't believe quite what I was hearing. Lydia Martin, the one girl who had made sure to view me as nothing more than dirt on her expensive heels throughout my time at Beacon Hills High, was actually sounding _human_. Realizing that she was still glaring at me, I told her honestly, "Lydia…we were never friends. Not during high school, and most definitely not now. Why would I think you would ever want to talk about that night with _me_? If you want the truth, I figured you've been asked enough about that night. Everyone needs a little break at some point. Even if they seem invincible to everyone else."

That should have been it. I should have been able to stride out of that department store, the thought of my ever-growing pile of homework an ever-present reminder that I needed to go home eventually. Maybe I would stop for a pint of ice cream to stem my disappointment of not being able to find anything that would be remotely appropriate for this damn date that I was absolutely dreading.

But, just as I went to turn around, Lydia's oddly quiet voice dragged me back to that spot. "What are you looking for?"

"I'm sorry?" I asked her, startled by her random, vague question.

"Well, you're in a store and you look extremely annoyed about the fact that you are not about to spend an obscene amount of money," said Lydia, crossing her arms over her chest. "Obviously you're looking for something."

Shifting my weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other, I reluctantly replied, "Well, I was looking for a dress to wear on this date, but it's not that big of a deal—"

"You're in the wrong section," she interrupted me, clearly not interested in the details of this horrible idea of a date. "Unless you're going on a date with a guy who plans on paying you afterwards, I suggest you follow me."

Without even waiting for my response, she flipped her hair over her shoulder and began to stride away, clearly confident that I planned on obediently listening and following her. However, I hesitated—surely this couldn't be happening? Lydia had barely given me the time of day the last time we had met up, and yet she seemed fully prepared to teach me the art of shopping for a dress. Maybe this was a mistake—I had always sworn that there was something off about Lydia, whether it be her attitude or her complete disregard for the people she trampled over.

And yet, after she glanced over her shoulder with an impatient glare and said coolly, "Are you coming?", I swallowed my reservations about the mystery that was Lydia Martin and, positive that this day could not get any stranger, I nodded.

* * *

Oh God, I so missed this.

Tucked into hidden alcove of the campus library, I was quite positive that I was the most relaxed I had been in a very long time. Several books were spread out before me, another misshapen pile of books moments away from teetering over the side of table with a ridiculously loud thump. My hand was already beginning to cramp from holding onto my ink pen so tightly, the midnight blue ink smearing onto my fingertips as I continued to furiously take notes on my readings. If there was a single soul traipsing around the library besides the librarian herself, I hardly took notice—I was too focused on my work to give a care in the world.

It was a late Thursday afternoon, so I was fairly confident that I would be the sole inhabitant of the library. With the sun shining so brightly, the sky a pure shade of pale blue, anyone else would surely be foolish to actually want to visit the library. This was quite fortunate for me, as I was finally able to sit down with my assignments and finish the huge amount of work assigned to me that had begun to pile up. With my mind still buzzing with my ever-present issues—both social and supernatural—it was just a relief to sit down and clear my thoughts with the aid of some old-fashioned schoolwork.

Sighing in relief as I finished writing up my notes for my Advanced Chemistry class, I firmly shut my textbook and slipped it into my unzipped backpack, stashed away underneath my stiff wooden chair. Just one more assignment—an outline for my English class—and then I'd be a free woman for the weekend, barring, of course, any last-minute assignments on Friday. Biting back my bubbling excitement at the thought, I went to grab my English binder, when a loud cough nearly sent me tumbling to the floor in surprise.

Flushing as I realized my humiliating jumpiness, I blinked through the ridiculously bright sunshine streaming through the open windows surrounding me and found my gaze settling on all-too familiar frowning face directed straight at me. This couldn't be, I thought to myself numbly as I blankly stared up at the tall, straight-backed figure of FBI Agent Roger White.

It had been quite a few months since I had last seen Agent White, and yet time had done nothing to dull my last memory of the older man still standing silently before me. His cruel interrogation techniques in his search for Derek—a murder suspect at the time—had nearly turned me inside out in the span of only a few minutes. Those pictures of my father's mutilated body would still flash before me late at night, Agent White's harsh voice screaming at me that my father would be disappointed in me, that he would always be disappointed. Just the memory caused my hands tighten into shaking fists, the ink from my pen pooling into my lined palm.

Time had done nothing to change Agent White. He was still the same rigid, tight-lipped, older man that was continuously dressed in a black suit that seemed to be his only attire. I vaguely recalled my initial thoughts when I had first met the man back in Portland when he and my father began working together. I had later whispered to my father these thoughts of how this man must have surely slept in those suits every night, just in case he got a call and had to be ready to return to his job. My father had laughed so hard he had squirted his soda straight out of his nose.

My first impression of Agent White hadn't been all that interesting. While he had seemed like the typical straight-backed suit that had probably never smiled once in his entire life, I hadn't honestly believed that Mr. White was exactly a bad guy. Maybe a bit too devoted to his line of work and the activity of studying behavior patterns—I had even caught him staring at me during these obvious studies—but not a bad person. Unfortunately, after I had slipped into a deep depression following my father's murder, I had all but turned away Mr. White when he had tried to awkwardly comfort me. This rejection was what must have caused him to change his attitude towards to me, so drastically that, when he had arrived at Beacon Hills all those months ago, he had even gone as far as use the lowest interrogation techniques in the book to find the whereabouts of Derek Hale, then a murder suspect.

"Hello Miss Brown," said Agent White, reluctantly dragging me away from those lingering memories as he realized I had finally noticed his presence. Wetting his lips, he continued, "It's been…uh…quite a while since we've seen each other."

Stiffening slightly as I glanced down at my mountain of textbooks spanning before my eyes, I swallowed the anxious lump forming in the back of my throat. Suddenly wishing that the library was just a little more crowded, I replied bluntly, "Not long enough, I'm afraid."

Visibly wincing at my harsh tone, Mr. White nodded slowly and said, "I suppose I deserve that."

"Yes," I told him simply, "you did." Despite my unfinished work still waiting patiently for me, I began to return my textbooks back to my backpack, ultimately ready to leave the once-comforting library far behind me.

"Miss Brown, I'm—"

"Why are you here?" I demanded, nearly losing my temper and raising my voice so sharply that the strict librarian would surely have a conniption. Being sure to keep my tone level, I added, "What are you doing in Beacon Hills? My uncle made sure to keep you far away from here ever since your last attempt to help in his investigation."

His frown deepening, Mr. White responded in a cool voice, "While your uncle was quite…vocal with his complaints about my behavior, my superiors understood that, with the lack of available agents within the Bureau, it was necessary for me to return to this town to help the sheriff with the recent spike in murders."

"Murders?" I repeated, furrowing my brow. "What murders?"

"You must be living in a hole, Miss Brown," said Mr. White, a ghost of a smile flitting across his lined face for just a second. "With the brutal murders of Mr. Daniel Lahey and Mr. Trevor Davies—who just died last night—and the current trend of strange occurrences within this town it's only necessary that the FBI step in and take control of this investigation before it gets out of hand."

Jaw tightening at the thought of another murder happening right under my nose—the brutality of Mr. Lahey's death could only point at something unnatural—I continued to frown up at Mr. White, the book currently caught within my grip beginning to tremble. Finally, I said, "And what do you want with me? Plan to interrogate me about these deaths as well?"

Mr. White chuckled wryly as he took a couple steps towards me, his arms reaching up to cross right across his chest. At his nearing me, I instantly shuffled to my feet, fully prepared to leave in an instant, even without my belongings in my grip. Catching this, Mr. White told me, "You have nothing to fear, Miss Brown. I can assure you that I am no threat—I'm simply here to inform you that I'm in town. Your uncle has made it quite clear that I am to keep a safe distance from you during my time here in Beacon Hills."

"And will you comply?" I asked, glaring up at him as I realized there was an underlying trace of fear beginning to build in my tone that caused my skin to crawl.

Initially Mr. White did not respond, instead allowing an almost sinister smile to creep onto his face. However, just as I blinked, it disappeared before I could even let myself realize that it must have just been a trick my mind was playing on itself. It took one more moment to realize that Mr. White had not replied, but instead took a step away from me. Before I could say a single word, another voice trickled into the tiny alcove, this one smooth as silk as it coldly said, "You should know that this library isn't open to the public."

Professor Kohler emerged from the shelves, his cracked, chestnut brown leather bag slung over his shoulder as he glanced between Mr. White and me. His hardened steel gray eyes narrowed on the FBI agent for one last moment before returning to my own face. "Jane, I didn't think I'd find you in here so late," he said.

Swallowing the ever-present lump clogging my throat, I replied nervously, "I, um, was just t-trying to get some work done—"

"Well, this worked out quite well then," Kohler interrupted me, turning his back completely to Mr. White as he continued to gaze down at me. There was something in his eyes that caused my fear to relinquish itself ever so slightly, just enough to cause muscles to unloosen themselves ever so slightly. Ignoring the transition in me, he continued, "I wanted to talk to you about your last assignment. Would you mind coming to my office with me?"

My tentativeness evaporating now at the thought of finally getting away from Mr. White, I nodded and hurriedly bundled my belongings into my arms before stepping forward, taking care to avoid the curious gaze of the FBI agent. Just as I went to pass Professor Kohler, Mr. White's voice caused me to stall my strides.

"Wait a second," he said, but his eyes were narrowed, not at me, but straight at Professor Kohler. "I know you from somewhere."

"I doubt it," said Kohler, barely sparing White a single glance before he uninterestedly went to take a step away from the man. Mr. White's hand reached out to tightly grasp Kohler's shoulder, obviously in hope of forcing him to stop, but his grip did not last for too long.

Instantly Kohler whipped around, viciously gripping Mr. White's offending arm and spinning him in the opposite direction. In the blink of an eye, Mr. White was pressed up against a nearby bookcase, Kohler's force so powerful that a few books were jostled from their homes and noisily tumbled to the carpeted floor. Agent White's arm, still clasped in Kohler's hand, was now twisted painfully behind his back, his whimpers completely disintegrating his high level of seniority as an FBI agent.

"Do you have any idea who I am—"

"I honestly don't give a damn," snarled Kohler, yanking White's arm into an even more painful position. At his sharp gasp, I couldn't help but take a hurried step forward—despite Mr. White's obvious disdain for me, I was in no way prepared to watch him be brutalized by my instructor. At my sudden movement, Kohler briefly glanced over his shoulder and stopped me with a shake of his head. Initially I thought I had just imagined it, but then I overheard Kohler's final words.

"I suggest you don't touch me again," Kohler breathed lowly into White's ear before releasing him from his iron-like grip. Acting as if nothing had happened, he offered me one last glance, seemingly unaware of my wide-eyed, shell-shocked stare up at him, before saying, "After you, Jane."

Unable to believe what I had just witnessed, I was given no choice but to numbly stride forward, my books still tightly bundled up in my trembling arms. I had no idea if Mr. White said anything to Professor Kohler, but, if he had, it must have been quick, as Kohler was right on my heels as he followed me out of the library. My heart continued to race within my rib cage, blood rushing to my cheeks as I continued to comprehend what had just happened. Unfortunately, before I could even manage to spill a single word to my instructor, we seemed to abruptly reach Professor Kohler's office.

After Kohler easily unlocked the door, he allowed me to hurry inside before he shut the door behind me. I had never had the luxury of having to visit Kohler's office since he had made it quite obvious during our initial introductions that, if any student was willing to meet with him during his office hours, they better be prepared to work harder than they had ever before. The walls were bare, the only furniture besides his desk and the single chair behind it being a tall antique bookcase that was stuffed with a colossal amount of books. There were no certificates blaring about his past achievements, no paintings that were more expensive than my car, no photographs of his family. It was so unlike any professor's office that I was quite positive that he must have just moved into the office, despite my knowledge that he had been teaching at the school for almost an entire semester now.

Again, my words seemed to fail me as I was forced to gape up at him. Catching my expression, he almost seemed to smirk as he said, "Just so you know, gaping like that is hardly a good look for anyone."

Flushing as I snapped my mouth shut and pursed my lips, I finally managed to ask, "Professor Kohler…what happened back there?"

"Nothing to worry about, Jane," replied Kohler instantly, dropping his bag onto his desk and beginning to rifle through his folders and papers. Noticing my unsatisfied glare, he sighed and added, "I'm not a fan of being touched, if you must know. It seemed that your friend was unaware of that."

"Until now, of course," I couldn't help but offer to him.

Keeping his face downturned in hopes of poorly hiding his amused smile, Kohler nodded.

"And he's not my friend," I hastily added. "He's just someone who used to work with my father."

"Well, I suggest you let your father know that his former co-workers should know better than to bother his daughter," he replied distantly, for some reason refusing to meet my gaze.

"I can't—he's dead."

Instantly Kohler tilted his face towards mine, his steel gray eyes unreadable as they bore straight down into my own wide ones. A strangely tense silence filtered between us as I felt my cheeks flush as I tried to decipher the odd emotion settling into his stare. Where had I seen that before? It was on the tip of my tongue as I swallowed nervously, my books tightening themselves against my chest. The motion seemed to awaken my instructor, who blinked before returning to his bag.

"I'm…sorry to hear about that, Jane," said Kohler, his uncomfortable tone doing nothing to shake my own awkwardness. Shaking his head slightly as he seemed to settle on the folder he needed and smacked it down hard against his desk. Catching my distant nod as I found myself blankly staring at the bare wall spanning above his head, he said, "I never told any of my students this before, but I grew up here in Beacon Hills. I moved away after my senior year to attend college out of state, but I had a few friends. I…I even knew your father."

"You did?" I asked dumbly, blinking up at him in shock as I froze in my spot. I had no idea that my father had any other connections still in Beacon Hills, besides my grandparents and my uncle, of course. And yet my own professor stood before me, revealing that he had known him when he was a child. Maybe they had been friends? Maybe they had known each other since their childhood? Maybe—"

"I didn't know him very well," said Kohler hurriedly, noticing my wide eyes. "I just knew him by name, and that he was best friends with your uncle. We…well, we ran in different crowds, you could say."

Swallowing my disappointment, I nodded, allowing my gaze to filter down to my shoes. Abruptly another question poised itself on my tongue, forcing me to glance back at him as I asked him curiously, "Did you know my mother?"

Professor Kohler's back stiffened as he continued to stare down at the folder he had just snatched up, although his eyes seemed to be devoid of any emotion. After the strange, silent moment, my instructor simply shook his head and replied, "No, I didn't. Like I said, we all ran in different crowds."

Chewing on my bottom lip, I reluctantly nodded. Just as I opened my mouth to ask him another question, Kohler's voice cut me off completely.

"It seems that I left your paper at home," said my instructor, shaking his head at his forgetfulness as he fixed his abruptly cold, steel gray stare on me. Frown deepening by the second, he continued, "We'll have to talk some other time."

Hesitant, I finally replied, "Sure. That sounds…fine."

Offering him a weak smile, I went to turn on my heel and retreat from both the bare room and my strange encounter with my professor. Abruptly Professor Kohler's voice caused me to hesitate as he added, "And…I would appreciate if you kept my encounter with…with your father's former friend between us. I'm sure my superiors would hardly be satisfied if they realized I was sparring with a stranger in the library."

Glancing over my shoulder at Kohler's face, hidden in the shadows now as he seemed particularly interested in his bag once more, I nodded and replied weakly, "Of course, Professor."

Before either of us could say another word, I found my legs carrying me out of the office. My mind continued to buzz with questions and confusion, even as I drove away from the campus and arrived at my home. Perhaps not everything was as it seemed.

Of course, I would soon later find that I was painfully correct.

* * *

**And that is the end of this chapter! Wow was that long, haha. Hope you all enjoyed it! I know, I know, no Derek, but the next one should be pretty good! Thank you all for reading and please don't forget to leave a review! **


	11. Chapter Eleven

**So, I'm working to continue pumping out these chapters as fast as I can without losing the integrity of this story. I'm very, very excited about the plans I have in store for these upcoming chapters, but you'll just have to be a little bit patient with me. I have about a week and a half left for my vacation, so I want to make sure that I get a good chunk of this story finished before I have to go back to work and won't have as much free time. Thank you all so much for the wonderful reviews you have continuously left behind—as I've said before, they truly help my muse stay strong. Well, without further ado, here is the next installment of "Howl":**

**Favorite Line:**

"_Sure, he came off as a little creepy, but what Argent doesn't?"_

* * *

"I'm so sorry, guys."

After hearing my voice, both Scott and Stiles glanced up at my approaching form, hopefully noticing the genuine apology I was spewing out to them. They had both been leaning against Stiles' sky blue Jeep, deep in murmured discussion as I neared them and completely oblivious to the insanity that was swirling around them. Ambulance after ambulance had been screeching up to Beacon Hills Hospital all morning long, forcing me to work three times as hard to keep everything at the front desk as orderly as possible. With the sharp influx of relatives arriving to check in on their injured loved ones, it had been nearly impossible for me to find someone to cover my break for just fifteen minutes. Fortunately, one of the other desk attendants had just started her shift and had been able to shoo me out of her way before I could even bother thanking her.

Normally I would have just skipped my shortened break altogether, considering we were so ridiculously busy and understaffed as it was. But, when I had received a phone call from my younger cousin, sounding desperate as he asked me if I could meet him and Scott sometime that day, the sooner the better. Not as puzzled as I would have been before my last confrontation with Agent White, I suggested the best time possible—late that night during my break, when we would hopefully be at our slowest.

Now, after offering Scott and Stiles one last apologetic smile, I unscrewed the top of my plastic water bottle and took a long drink of icy cold water. A slight breeze was drifting through the crowded hospital parking lot, ruffling the ends of my dark, unruly hair and causing me to rub my bare arms, wishing that I had bothered bringing my jacket. Reluctantly allowing the chill to awaken my mind, I added, "It's been really hectic today."

"Don't worry about it," Scott told me, watching me with a rather curious expression on his face. "Are you, uh, doing alright?"

Realizing that the last time I had spoken to Scott was just moments before Derek had slashed his uncle's throat and claimed his role as the Alpha, I couldn't help but flush. Oh Scott, I thought to myself, you have missed so much. Instead, I shrugged my shoulders and replied, "I've been okay. Your mom really has helped me out—I don't know what I would've done if she hadn't helped me get this job."

Scott smiled, clearly pleased that he had at least done something right, if only through his connection to a rather successful nurse. However, my gaze began to flicker over to my cousin, who was uncomfortably shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Catching my puzzled stare, Stiles shared a glance with his best friend, clearly poised to offer me some reason as to why they wanted to meet with me.

"What's going on?" I asked them both, anxiety beginning to spike within me.

"When you and Derek were…together," began Stiles, cringing, no doubt, at the idea of his older cousin being involved with the Alpha, "did he ever tell you about supernatural creatures besides, you know, werewolves?"

At the sound of Derek's name, my back instinctively stiffened. While a couple days had passed since my explosion of anger towards him, I had not heard a single peep from Derek in that entire time span. He apparently had decided that it was best to keep some distance between us, which was probably a good idea. However, I couldn't help but feel frustrated that he was still so damn determined to keep me out of the loop about the continued strangeness going on both between us and within Beacon Hills. Hadn't I earned enough of his respect that he could at least inform me about what happened that night of the full moon? Unfortunately, as time continued to slip by without a single word from Derek Hale, it seemed I hadn't.

Frowning at these bitter thoughts, I shook my head as I told them both, "No, that never really came up." Shrugging my shoulders as those heart-wrenching memories continued to prod at my insides, I added, "I guess I had enough trouble wrapping my head around the fact that there were _werewolves _running around that I didn't even want to consider that there could be something else out there. Why? What happened?"

Again Scott and Stiles exchanged nervous glances, clearly split on whether or not to inform me about their sudden interest in what Derek had shared with me. Realizing quickly that they were actually considering keeping me in the dark about whatever was going on, I couldn't help but mention sharply, "Just in case you both have forgotten, I'm three years older than you. I think I can handle whatever it is that you're hiding from me."

"Stiles," Scott finally began, glancing over at his best friend as he tore his gaze from my determined glare, "she should know—"

"No," Stiles immediately cut him off, shaking his head stubbornly as he shot a warning glare at his companion.

"No?" I repeated, insides beginning to boil as I narrowed my eyes straight at the younger boy. "You're just going to keep me in the dark?"

"If it keeps you safe—"

"You've got to be kidding me," I rolled my eyes, infuriated that I was being treated like an insolent child by my _younger _cousin. "You can't honestly think that I can't take care of myself—"

"Really?" Stiles snapped, stepping away from his Jeep and nearing me, apparently unimpressed with my argument. "Is that what happened last time? In case _you've _forgotten, Jane, you almost died the last time you were involved in all of this supernatural crap. After Derek broke your heart, you couldn't even leave your bed for days. And, of course, let's not forgot how Kate locked you up in a dungeon and tortured you so badly that you still can't even sleep without waking up screaming. And now, after you finally have your life straightened out, you think it'll be all fine and dandy to just jump right back into the thick of things? My dad's already buried his wife, his sister, his best friend—do you think he's ready to bury you next—"

My hand shot out, slapping Stiles so hard that my palm seared as if it had been set aflame. Hot tears of fury stung at my eyes, my entire body trembling as I coldly glared up at my cousin, watching as he cradled the side of his face, blinking at me with shock darkening his eyes. Scott had instinctively stepped forward, but his expression was conflicted as he glanced in between Stiles and me.

"How dare you?" I snarled, ice rushing through my veins as I struggled to keep my emotions in check. Somehow I was able to breathe through the sizable lump forming in the back of my throat as I continued heatedly, "Do you think I _like _my own life in danger? Do you honestly believe that I get some sick…enjoyment out of it? It scares the absolute hell out of me, but in order to protect those that I love, I have to do it, Stiles. I can't just sit around doing nothing while everyone I love is risking their lives. And if you think that keeping me in the dark is going to magically stop me from getting involved, you clearly don't know me at all, Stiles."

I waited, I truly did. I watched his expressive face, the conflicting emotions spanning right before my eyes as I struggled to be patient. Stiles glanced over his shoulder at Scott, who was clearly staying out of our argument, he briefly studied his Jeep, and he cast a long stare all around the parking lot at the normal people continued on with their daily lives. Never once did he meet my gaze. As the seconds and moments gradually ticked by, I chewed on my bottom lip, praying to keep my tears at bay, and realized that I wasn't about to receive the truth from him.

"Fine," I snapped at him, feeling more betrayed than I ever believed I would by Stiles. "I'll just find out on my own then."

Just as I went to spin on my heel to return to my suddenly meaningless work, a tentative hand wrapped around my forearm, stalling me. Slowly I turned back around to face my cousin, who finally met my eyes, his shiny stare nearly piercing my heart into a thousand pieces. "I…I just don't want to see you get hurt again, Jane," he told me, voice cracking ever so slightly.

"I can't promise you that you won't," I replied truthfully, nonetheless reaching my hand out to gently grasp at his faintly trembling free hand. "But I can't do nothing, Stiles. I need to help, any way I can."

Stiles pressed his lips together, clearly not too fond of my answer. However, after a moment of tense silence, he nodded, stepping out of my reach and turning his gaze onto Scott, who had watched our exchange in silence. Realizing that we were both staring at him now, he gave a slight nod to Stiles before telling me, "On the night of the last full moon, Allison and I were almost attacked by…something that neither of us has ever seen before. It looked like some kind of walking snake with claws and a tail—whatever it was, it definitely wasn't human, but it didn't try to attack us. It just ran away."

Frowning, I weighed Scott's words within my mind, trying to picture this strange creature in my mind. A walking snake? While it certainly sounded supernatural, wouldn't it be only expected that it would attempt to attack Scott and Allison instead of fleeing? It just seemed too bizarre and convenient to find a supernatural creature that _wasn't _dangerous. My forehead wrinkling as I continued to think, I slowly said, "The last full moon…that was like four or five days ago, right after Isaac's dad…" Eyes widening, I blinked up at both Scott and Stiles, recalling easily my uncle's uneasiness with the brutality of the older man's murder. "Do you think that's what killed Isaac's dad?"

"It has to be," replied Stiles, much calmer now that his emotions were under control once more. "Derek's positive that Isaac didn't do it, and considering the only other creature running around Beacon Hills is this…thing, well, it only makes sense, you know? And I don't know if you heard, but that mechanic that was killed a couple nights ago—that thing did that too. It paralyzed him with some venom it creates and, well, it allowed some other outside forces to do the rest."

"How do you know so many details?" I couldn't help but ask my cousin rather curiously. "Did Uncle Jake tell you?"

Shifting uncomfortably, at first Stiles remained silent, finding his tennis shoes quite interesting. But, catching my puzzled stare, he finally sighed and said, "I was there when it all happened. I touched some of that venom and it paralyzed me before I could do anything. But, when it looked at me, it felt as if it knew me, like it had seen me before. It didn't even try to hurt me. Really, I'm fine." Catching me take a step forward, guilt and concern gripping my insides with an iron-like fist, my cousin hastened to add in the last sentence, stepping backward to ease my nerves.

Still feeling wretched, I nodded at his explanation, returning to my original spot and glancing back over at Scott. "Besides Derek, do you know anyone else who may have a clue as to what that thing is?" I asked him, knowing full well that neither Scott nor Stiles would go rushing to the Alpha for help anytime soon.

Nodding, Scott replied, "Allison's grandfather should have something called a bestiary—it's basically a book about different creatures—"

"I've heard about it," I nodded. Catching their surprised glances, I hurriedly added, "Not that one in particular. I've just read about fictional bestiaries in a few different books that I've read. How are you going to get that from Allison's grandfather? He doesn't seem exactly like an open person."

"Yeah, I kn—" Frowning, Stiles glanced back over at me, narrowing his eyes slightly as he said slowly, "Wait a second. How do you know about Allison's grandfather?"

"We've met," I shrugged, inwardly wincing as I realized that I had happened to forget about letting my cousin know that another Argent had decided to make their presence quite known to me.

"And you're just telling us this now?!"

"It wasn't anything important!" I replied defensively, even as Stiles tossed his hands in the air in disbelief. "He just stopped me after work and tried to give me some twisted threat about how he was in town for Kate's funeral. He already knew about me and my history with Derek—I guess Kate relayed the information before Peter killed her. But he hasn't even bothered me since. Sure, he came off as a little creepy, but what Argent doesn't?"

Stiles rolled his eyes, clearly not satisfied by my lack of nervousness around Gerard, but Scott interrupted his complaints by saying, "We may need your help finding that bestiary."

"Definitely," I instantly replied, nodding to the both of them as I realized my break time was beginning to hastily wind down. "When?"

"We're not sure," said Scott. "We're going to need Allison's help, and it'll take some time to iron out the details with her, since she's not really supposed to be speaking with us."

Shifting uncomfortably at the thought of my former friend, who I still had yet to speak to since that fateful night, I reluctantly nodded. Sighing after taking one last sip of water, I glanced over my shoulder and told them both, "I have to get back to work. But call me when you guys need me, and I'll make sure I'm free."

Both nodded, although Stiles still looked a tad bit hesitant. Catching his reluctance, I couldn't help but say to him truthfully, "I'm sorry about slapping you, Stiles. I didn't mean to lose my temper like that."

Shrugging rather nonchalantly, Stiles offered me one last nod before saying, "Just…just promise me you'll be careful. I don't want to see you get hurt, Jane."

"I promise, Stiles," I smiled up at him, offering his hand a gentle squeeze before I hurriedly rushed back to my shift.

* * *

"Damn it," I mumbled, glancing down at my dash and realizing that my car was in desperate need of some fuel.

Of course, my gas light would decide to begin chirping on the same morning that I was running a little late for my morning classes that Friday. Not only had I been sluggish early that morning as I struggled to avoid considering the fact that I would be forced to go on a date that I had been dreading all week. Nausea settled deep within my stomach, even causing me to dry heave in my kitchen sink a few times. Unfortunately, my wretched state did not excuse me from going on with my daily activities that day; after taking a quick shower and somehow choking down a dry piece of toast, I rushed out of my apartment and to my car. After a hasty glance at my clock, I realized that I was only a few minutes late. That was, of course, until I realized now that I was a little low on gas.

Sighing, I ran a hand over my face as I pulled into a nearby gas station. Fortunately it was fairly empty, no doubt because most commuters had realized that they needed gas at a more appropriate time than right before classes were set to begin. After pulling my car up beside the closest pump, I hurried out and, after sliding my debit card through the machine, managed to begin to filling up my car. Even if I didn't fill the gas tank completely, at least it would get me to campus. I'd worry about everything else after class.

As I inwardly nodded at this reasonable plan, I barely noticed the dark car pulling up behind mine, nor the willowy figure that stepped out into the chilly air. My arms tightly moved to cross over my chest, goosebumps sprouting on my flesh as my body pleaded with my mind to return to the stifling heat of the inside of my car. Rocking back and forth on my heels as I anxiously waited for my car to absorb the necessary amount of fuel, I caught a sliver of movement out of the corner of my eye. After a quick glance over at the car parked behind mine, ice flooded my veins, freezing me completely to my spot.

Tucking her long, rich, thick dark hair into a loose bun at the base of her pale neck, Allison Argent clearly had no idea who was standing only a few feet from her. Speechless, I was forced to watch as she began to pump gas, her long, slender fingers hastily retracting into her coat pockets as she cast a brief look all around her. And that's when her long-lashed chocolate brown eyes met mine, and time seemed to utterly freeze.

Allison may have been one of the few friends in Beacon Hills that I could truly trust with the contents of my heart. She may have been someone who, with a few more months of bonding, I would have been willing to label my best friend. But then our friendship was disintegrated when Allison's aunt decided to rip me away from reality and nearly push me to the brink of death. As soon as, during that intense confrontation between the Argents, Derek, Scott, and the Alpha, the narrowed tip of Allison's arrow hesitantly prodded at the small of my back and she warned me to stop threatening the cold-blooded killer that was her aunt, we were finished. Whatever bond we had was burned just as violently as Peter Hale had before his nephew slashed his throat from ear to ear.

Ever since that night, Allison had made a few attempts to reach out to me, going as far as to pound on my grandparents' front door until Nana was forced to inform her that I wasn't up for greeting any visitors. Eventually she took the hint, realizing that I couldn't bring myself to face her. While I was still bound and determined to label it as fury for how she had refused to believe me when I informed her of her aunt's hidden sociopathic tendencies, there was still a tiny sliver of my mind that continued to hiss that it may have been shame that kept my animosity towards Allison strong. Shame for how satisfied I was to initially hear of her aunt's death, despite her strong connection to my supposed friend. Shame for how, for the first time, I had desired nothing more than to see someone die right before my eyes. It was a desire that frightened me to my very core, for that was only the doomed beginning of someone who would eventually feel nothing as they callously spilled blood. Someone who was cold and dead inside. Someone who I had sworn to never become.

Realizing that this shame may be what was consuming me most as I continued to stare at Allison, I ripped my gaze from the younger girl and began to pull the fuel pump out of my car's gas tank and return it to the fuel station. I had to get out of there fast before I was forced to dwell on my hidden feelings any longer. But then, as I went to open my driver's side door to flee from the tense gas station, her voice forced me to hesitate just enough.

"Jane," said Allison simply, her eyes, as I realized later, never leaving me even as I struggled to get away from her. "Please…don't go."

Sighing, I relinquished my grip on the door handle and reluctantly returned my gaze back up to Allison's pale, heart-shaped face. "This is a bad idea," I told her, tentatively taking a step towards her as I buried my ice cold hands back into my pockets.

"It probably is," Allison agreed, nodding her head as she ignored the loud clicking noise that hinted at her car's tank having its fill. "How have you been?"

"Fine," I shrugged my shoulders, not sure how much I should even bother telling her. Really, was it the smartest idea to go and tell Allison about my immense confusion revolving around Derek, Gavin, this new creature that had already brutally murdered two people, and everything else that was prodding at my insides daily. "Just…getting through life, you know?"

Again Allison nodded, allowing the awkward silence to settle between us for just a moment before saying, "I heard that my grandfather had a, um, chat with you."

Whether it had been Scott or Stiles who had spilled their guts to the girl standing nervously before me, I was fairly positive that I was going to ream them both the next time I laid eyes on them. Honestly, could they have at least kept their mouths sealed just this once? Shifting uncomfortably, I hesitantly replied, "Yeah, he did. He seemed to want to inform me that he was in town for Kate's funeral."

Instantly I winced at my poorly timed decision to remind Allison of the recent death of her aunt, as well as my dark connection to the cruel woman. Nonetheless, I was forced to watch as Allison audibly swallowed, clearly not over Kate's death as she might like others to believe. Finally she was able to unhinge her jaw and tell me, "Gerard is staying longer than that. He seems determined to avenge Kate's death by killing everyone involved."

"I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised," I told her. Honestly, should it have seemed so startling that the werewolf hunters would be the revengeful type? From what I had witnessed from the Argents, it seemed like the most predictable fact that I had learned of since moving to Beacon Hills. Furrowing my brow as I remembered just who was telling me this information, I couldn't help but ask warily, "Why are you telling me this?"

At first, Allison chewed on her bottom lip, clearly not too thrilled to give me any sort of explanation. However, when she realized I wasn't going to relent anytime soon, she sighed and replied, "I guess when Kate found out about your…relationship with Derek, she left Gerard a message with just enough information for him to put two and two together. After getting most of the details from my dad, he decided that it wasn't just Derek and Peter who were responsible for Kate's death. He…well, he's blaming you."

Back stiffening, I glared up at Allison as I coldly told her, "You should let your grandfather know that his daughter was the one who dragged me into her hunt for the Alpha, not the other way around. I had nothing to do with her death, and if you really think that—"

"I don't!" Allison hastily cut me off, raising her hands defensively as she just managed to stop me from ranting any longer. "I honestly don't blame you for Kate's death, Jane. But Gerard…I don't think he's completely stable right now. And he's so determined to avenge Kate that he's not thinking clearly."

"I've never known an Argent to do that," I couldn't help but snap. Allison instantly winced at my tone, the hurt reflecting so brightly in her eyes that I couldn't help but feel guilty for my outburst. Glancing away from her pained face for just a moment, I turned back to her and added, "Allison, I still don't understand why you're telling me all of this."

"Because I don't want to see you get hurt," Allison replied, tilting her chin up stubbornly. "Like I said, I don't blame you for Kate's death, and you don't deserve to be hurt by my family any more than you already have. I just…I guess I want to make things right between us."

My suppressed fear of the fact that the elderly Argent patriarch was planning for my eventual death was not what was running through my mind. Nor was the idea that I was probably going to miss the first quarter of my first class that morning. Instead, all I kept considering was how much I had really missed my old friend. Life could get lonely when you had no one to turn to when you felt cold and lost—I suppose it just took Allison stretching out her slightly trembling fingers to make me realize that.

Allison, who seemed to take my silence as my acceptance of her leaving, went to turn on her heel and return back to the gas pump that was protruding from her car. But, my instincts pushed me to take a step forward and say gently, "Allison…wait a second."

As she turned back to me, her warm, chocolate brown eyes slightly widened in surprise, I parted my lips and told her, "I'm sorry about your aunt."

"I'm sorry too," Allison replied, offering me a small, sad smile before turning her back on me once more.

* * *

**I know, I know—no Derek again. :/ But these scenes are really important to the plot of this story, so I was really excited to get them written and posted. I can promise you that Derek will be returning very soon. (: Thanks for reading and please don't forget to leave a review! **


	12. Chapter Twelve

**So, this is the beginning of a chain of chapters that I have honestly been planning since I started plotting for this story. These scenes are what inspired me to write Jane's story—I am extremely excited to share them all with you, and I truly hope that you all enjoy them very much. Thank you all for your continued support—I cannot find the words for how much I truly appreciate all the kind words you have delivered me. Well, without further ado, here is the next installment of "Howl":**

**Favorite Line:**

"_I'm not going anywhere. You can tell your Alpha that, if he wants to speak to me, he can find me himself."_

* * *

The lacrosse games at Beacon Hills High School had consistently proved to be the perfect tool to assemble the entire town in one single place. Especially that late Friday night, when the lacrosse team was threatening to secure a playoff spot with one win, you could count on almost every citizen of the town sitting in those stands, faithfully cheering on their team. On that clear, crisp, cool night, after a long, hectic week of classes and work and responsibilities, it was the best time to meet up with friends and truly enjoy the few freedoms of life. While the lacrosse game certainly served as an enabler for those who just wanted to enjoy themselves, it could also be used as a distraction for the few who needed a few hours of emptiness to further their agendas.

That was why, on that late Friday night, I was not at the lacrosse game, cheering on the team of my former high school as they battled to emerge into the playoffs. I wasn't even where I was supposed to be—sitting in a restaurant, across from Gavin as I struggled to make him realize that our relationship would only ever be strictly platonic. Instead, I was stopped in the wide, crowded parking lot of the school, blankly staring out my windshield at a pair of teenage boys who leaning against a nearby dumpster, casually sporting cigarettes. Resisting the urge to roll my eyes at their foolish naivety, I continued to listen to my cell phone, still pressed against my ear as several loud rings sounded.

Once I finally heard the click of the line and his voicemail message began to play, I let loose a soft sigh, lightly massaging the tips of my fingers into my left temple. Honestly, this wasn't exactly a good time for a headache to begin forming, and yet there was the throbbing within my forehead. It was as if my body knew that I was poised to unleash a lie and was bound and determined to punish me for it. Unfortunately, I had no choice but to ignore the pain and begin my message for Gavin.

"Hi Gavin, it's just me," I said nervously, already regretting my decision to create this lie. After all, spinning one lie is just the beginning—eventually you'll be left with a tangled web of lies that suffocate you until the very end. "I just wanted to let you know that I'll be running a little late—I, uh, left something behind at work so I have to run over to the hospital and grab it before it gets too late. I'll meet you at the restaurant though as soon as I can. I'll see you soon."

Sighing again, I ended the call and tucked my phone securely into my purse. My fingers itched to run through my hair, but instead I was forced to embed my nails into the soft flesh of my palms. Considering it had taken me almost forty minutes just to tame my wild hair and wrestle it into a decent-looking, long, thick braid, I wasn't going to risk any movement that would ruin all of my wasted time. The slight sting of pain from my hands allowed me to control my nerves and focus my gaze onto my dark surroundings. My window was cracked, allowing the soft gusts of night air to seep into my car and gently caress my pale cheeks as I cast one long glance around the parking lot, patiently searching for the one who had dragged me off course that night in the first place. As soon as my eyes settled on the familiar figure, leaning against a strange white car parked only a few rows from mine and speaking through the driver's own cracked window, I snatched up my purse and slipped out of my car.

Wrapping my long, black cloth jacket tightly around my torso, it took me only just a moment to steady myself atop the cracked pavement before setting off towards both the white car and the entrance to the high school. At the strange clicking sound that was resounding throughout the silent parking lot, I glanced down at my feet, momentarily startled to not see my typical tennis shoes or leather boots peeking up at me, but a foreign pair of black stiletto heels. When she had taken me shopping, Lydia had impatiently tried to convince me to go with a much higher heel, claiming that I would eventually have to get used to walking in them, but I refused. While they certainly were nice looking, they would only appear foolish when I broke my ankle in them. Fortunately we were able to come together on a pair of low heels, giving me just enough height that even Lydia was moderately satisfied.

Inwardly shaking the memories from my mind, I approached the white car, warily watching as my cousin was quietly speaking into the window to the driver. As soon as my rather loud heels alerted him to my arrival, Stiles glanced up and did a double take as he realized just who he was gazing up at.

"Just hang on one second," I caught him saying rather distantly before turning to face me.

Ignoring his strange reaction, I hurried over to him, still rather puzzled about just who he was so gently talking to. Catching my side glance around into the dark window, Stiles shook his head, drawing my attention back to him as he said, "Don't ask."

Cocking an eyebrow but just barely able to bite back my muted interest, I nodded. "So what's the plan?"

After digging into his red sweatpants for just a second, Stiles extracted a silver ring clad with several keys along with a small black flash drive. "These are the keys to Gerard's office," he explained, slipping them into my outstretched palm. Catching my raised eyebrows, he hastily added, "Somehow he was able to get himself hired as the principal. Trust me, it's as fishy as it sounds. But Allison said that he has a leather bound book in there that should be the bestiary. We just need to get in there and find the book before, you know, anyone finds _us _in the process." Casting one last longing glance over his shoulder, Stiles met my steady gaze and asked hurriedly, "Ready?"

"But what about…what's going on between you and whoever that is in there?" I couldn't help but ask, hesitating as he began to walk right past me. With Stiles no longer able to block my view, I caught the gentle spring of a perfectly curled lock of strawberry blonde hair shuddering away from the outside looking in. "Is that Lydia in there?" I asked Stiles, turning back to see him grimacing slightly.

While I did truly love my cousin dearly, I had never really seen him interacting with anyone outside of our family and, of course, Scott and Derek. We led our completely separate lives, which was quite alright for the both of us, and so it was a little difficult to truly peek into the inner depths of Stiles' life, his friends, his strongest desires, and those he deeply cared for. But in that moment, when I uttered Lydia's name, I caught that familiar flicker within his chocolate brown eyes, that emotion that ran so deep into your veins that you could never truly destroy it. It was a flash that I had even seen within myself, once or twice at least.

Swallowing at that painful prodding that was entwined with those distant memories, I couldn't help but smile sadly up at Stiles as his words finally tumbled out from his lips, "Alright, it is. She's crying right now and, believe me, there's nothing more I'd like to do than wait outside her car all night. But we have to go look for the bestiary. Scott's counting on us and—"

"I'll go."

Stiles blinked down at me, obviously startled by my simple interruption. "B-by yourself?" he stammered out. "No way. What if Argent comes in there, or worse—"

"It's just the high school, Stiles," I told him calmly, already tucking the keys into my pocket as I made to take a few steps up towards the main entrance. "I'll be fine. Go talk to Lydia—I'm sure she needs a friend right now, and you're the closest one she's got right now. Just go—I can take care of myself."

At first Stiles remained hesitant, clearly not thrilled with the idea of me rushing off into the deserted high school after hours in this hunt for the bestiary. But I didn't give him a chance to argue any longer—I offered him one last smile before hurrying off. Just as I reached the main doors, I heard his voice calling for me. "What is it?" I yelled to him, taking a couple strides towards him.

"Why are you dressed like—you know—that?"

Furrowing my brow in puzzlement, I glanced down at my attire, fully expecting to see the jeans and t-shirt that I was usually clad in. But, instead, I found myself blankly staring down at the skirt of the simple halter dress I had slipped on only an hour before, the soft cloth tickling at my knees. The color, a deep, rich blue that vaguely reminded me of the night sky spanning high above me at that very moment, had been a particular favorite of Lydia, who had managed to pick out the dress all on her own. "It brings out your eyes," she had said simply as she held the dress against my hesitant body. "Now go try it on so we can get some shoes."

"Don't ask," I told Stiles now, watching as he gave an amused shake of his head before turning back to Lydia's car.

Slipping through the heavy metal doors that made sure to clang loudly behind me, I hurried down the empty corridors to the familiar principal's office. While I had certainly never been sent to the office by an indignant teacher, I had always had a clear idea where it was located. As I did my best to stay steady and yet continue to keep up a fast pace, the click-clacking sounds of my heels loudly echoed off the rows and rows of identical sky blue lockers. The absolute emptiness and darkness caused a wave of nausea to roll through my twisted insides, forcing me to take several useless calming breaths before finally arriving at the locked office of the principal.

After tussling with a couple keys, I managed to jam the correct key into the shiny doorknob and subtly sneak into the office. The walls were still bare, the purest evidence that there was a transition of position holders at the moment, but the bookcases were still overstuffed with journals and historic novels. The only note-worthy object on the rather empty desktop was a golf trophy positioned right on the far corner, but the name etched into the faux gold barely registered in my mind as my eyes locked on the closed drawers of the desk. After slipping out of my jacket and gently laying it over a nearby chair, I began my search.

Ten minutes passed by and, as I rifled through the drawers and their contents—stacks and stacks of papers, magazines, pamphlets, books, files, and even a medical journal transcribed completely in Latin—I was quite positive that I was going to come up empty-handed. Although there certainly were a handful of books within Gerard's desk, none of them matched the description of this bestiary. Sighing disappointedly, I dug my phone out from my purse and hastily sent Stiles a text, simply saying that the bestiary was nowhere to be found. Once the text was sent, I blew a stray curly strand of dark hair out of my eyes, slowly tucking it behind my ear as I cast one last glance around the office, praying that something would jump out at me before I was forced to leave.

"You know, it's a bit rude to snoop."

With my back turned to the not-so-empty doorway, my spine stiffened, my eyes desperately searching through the dark window before me for any sign of who was standing right behind me. Of course, it was a rather foolish attempt. Even without the reflection I would soon stumble upon in the black glass, I would recognize that coy, sarcastically sweet voice anywhere.

Turning, I glared up at Erica, her bouncy blonde ringlets tumbling down her shoulders as she tilted her to the side as she grinned her perfectly white smile at me. As seemed to be a theme with her attire, her cleavage was spilling out of the low neck of her shirt, the confidence doing nothing to convince me that the look was exactly attractive. Despite her youthfulness, there was an edge of bitterness deep within her golden brown eyes, one that I would hope to never stumble across in anyone. Each moment that she blinked innocently down at me, it seemed that cold edge could only multiply.

"But, of course," said Erica now, her smile refusing to falter even as my narrowed gaze continued to scrutinize her, "you're not really snooping, are you? You're far too _good _for that, aren't you, Jane?"

Ignoring the bait, I tilted my chin up stubbornly and coolly asked, "What do you want, Erica? Why are you even here?"

"You know, Jane, I could ask you that same question," she replied, arching her shapely brows ever so slightly as she took one step towards me. Instinctively I retreated a stride, tentatively reaching my right hand back to lay flat on the cold surface of the desk, just so I didn't go barreling into the desk. Catching my movement, she slyly smirked, as if she was a gleeful snake stalking her prey. "If I remember correctly, you don't even attend this school. And I've always heard that no one ever wants to return to high school. So why would you bother coming back? Especially, of all places, to the principal's office to snoop around."

Initially I wanted to refuse to reply, to not play into her hand and instead search for a way out of this mess. The only exit, however, was the doorway that she was now blocking, her curvy hips almost taunting me as she sauntered one more step forward. But then, I found my lips forming my irritated words as I coldly told her, "Believe it or not, Erica, I actually don't have to answer to you. And last time I checked, you found me rather boring. Why the sudden interest in me?"

"Well, fine," huffed Erica, although there was a slight glint flashing within her eyes as she crossed her arms over her chest. "If you _must _know, these aren't exactly my questions. I could really care less what you do—like you said, you're a very uninteresting person, and I'd much rather be using my valuable time elsewhere. But, unfortunately, that's not my call."

"Whose call is it then?"

"We both know the answer to that," she said, and she was, of course, quite right. Even before I uttered out that question, my stomach had already begun to twist into tangled knots, blood rushing to my face just at the sheer thought of him. Sensing my reaction, Erica couldn't seem to stop herself from rolling her eyes before adding, "And, if you don't mind, I'd rather not leave my Alpha waiting. He has quite a temper, but of course you already knew that, didn't you?"

Clenching my fists, I glared up at Erica and shook my head. "I'm not going anywhere. You can tell your Alpha that, if he wants to speak to me, he can find me himself."

"I'll get right on that," replied Erica sarcastically. She continued to near me, although the coyness had begun to slip from her now-impatient voice. "I told Derek I'd bring you to the pool, and that's what exactly what I'm going to do. Now we can do this the easy way or the hard way—which will it be, Jane?"

Instead of awarding her response, I simply stood my ground, my back pressed against the sharp edge of the metal desk. My hand continued to lay flat on the desk top, but my fingers were only centimeters away from the closest weapon I could come up with. I waited patiently, allowing my short breaths to lengthen and allow my nerves to gradually unwind. Just as Erica let loose an irritated snort and abruptly bounded forward, I was already ready. At the last second, I snatched up the heavy golf trophy that belonged to Mr. Argent and, without wasting another moment, smashed it sharply against Erica's left temple.

In an instant, Erica tumbled to carpeted floor, landing in a pile of long twisted limbs and an immense amount of blonde ringlets. She didn't make a single peep, but I supposed that she would have quite a nasty headache when she woke up. Casting a glance around the office, I realized the office of a werewolf hunter hell-bent on avenging his sociopathic daughter's death probably wouldn't have been the safest place for a werewolf to awaken, especially one that was a student.

So, with a reluctant sigh and after hurriedly wiping the droplets of fresh blood from the trophy, I heaved Erica's upper torso into my arms and began to drag her, at least out into the empty corridor. Unfortunately the girl was hardly light, forcing me to huff and puff the entire time I was forced to half-carry Erica down the hallway and to the closest janitor's closet. "It's definitely not the Hilton," I mumbled as I gently set her up against the wall and went to take a step away from the unconscious girl, "but it'll save your life."

As soon as the door snapped shut, I glanced down at my wrinkled dress, the sweat beading on my forehead no doubt starting to cause my unruly hair to frizz. At once a surge of fury flooded my system as I realized that all of this work was truly for nothing—even if I did manage to meet Gavin that night and beg for his forgiveness, I looked like an utter mess. And it was all one person's fault. While she certainly hadn't helped, I wasn't even thinking of the young Beta locked in the janitor's closet at that very moment. No, my mind instead traveled to her Alpha, the one who, according to Erica, who currently was waiting for the both of us to return at the pool.

_Well_, Derek, I couldn't help but wryly think, _you'll get half of your wish granted._

* * *

Like the principal's office, finding the swimming pool was a rather simple pursuit. Not a single inch of my body was begging me to turn away, not then—my anger with Derek was suffocating those parts that would dare to disagree with me. As soon as I took one step past those doors, a rolling wave of humidity clung to my bare skin, the flashes of pale flesh reminding me that I had foolishly left my jacket behind in Gerard's office. But, as I cast a hesitant glance around the seemingly empty indoor swimming pool, I hastily realized that I could not retreat so quickly just yet. Derek stood in the corner to my right, an obnoxiously orange basketball clutched in his hands and his penetrating eyes narrowed straight at me.

As soon my eyes met his, a jolt buzzed through my veins. Instantly I grasped that I hadn't seen Derek in quite a few days and that, in spite of all the pain and suffering that he had caused me, I had actually _missed _him. No matter how many tears I would shed over Derek Hale, I was quite positive now that he could do nothing to make me stop truly loving him. My insides quivered at the sight of him, my lips threatening to betray me as they craved to curve into a smile. Instead, I forced myself to remember how he had sent Erica to retrieve like some petulant child, instead of having the decency to find me himself. My fingers curved into tight fists, and my fury began to rise as my frozen limbs thawed and began to stride towards the silent Alpha, his forest green eyes warily watching me.

"So, you wanted to speak with me?" I began, trembling with rage as I continued to near him. We were just a couple steps away from the edge of the pool, the still surface as smooth as pale blue glass. "What about? What could be so damn important that you would send your Beta off to fetch me like a dog? Actually, it's doesn't even matter—next time you want to talk to me, I suggest you find me your damn self. I'm not some…some puppet that you can pull the strings on whenever you want to, Derek. I figured you'd show me a little bit more respect, but I guess I was wrong."

Derek surveyed me for just a moment, his brow oddly furrowed as he seemed almost thoughtful for just a moment. But then that expression fled from his eyes as he caught me continuing to stare up at him. He remained silent for just one more moment before asking in a cold tone, "Is this going to become a trend with you now?"

"What are you talking about?" I snapped, a little startled as to his random question.

"To rant and rave without giving me a chance to explain myself," said Derek in an annoyingly calm tone. "You did it last time when you had your meltdown after meeting Erica, and now you're doing it again. I'd just like to know if this is something I have to start expecting now."

Spine stiffening, I glared hotly up at him. Could he honestly be acting like such a prick right now, when he was so clearly the one in the wrong? Struggling to keep my cool, I coldly told him, "You want to explain yourself? Fine. Go right ahead. Explain why you sent Erica to drag me back here kicking and screaming. Please, do explain it to me."

"I guessed that you were probably still angry with me about before—a guess that, judging from your anger towards me even at this very moment, was quite correct," he added, almost smirking at my eye roll. "I thought it would be a bad idea if I came to you directly for help. So, I sent someone who was practically a complete stranger instead—I figured you wouldn't react so badly. Obviously _that _prediction was a little off."

"And you didn't even think about sending one of your other Betas while concocting this plan?" I asked him incredulously. "I'd much rather see Boyd or Isaac than Erica of all people."

"Boyd was a little preoccupied," Derek reluctantly told me, the slight edge forming in his voice forcing me to predict that perhaps his plan hadn't gone exactly as he had hoped it would. "And Isaac is still a suspect in his father's death—I couldn't exactly send him out to the school now, could I? That left me with Erica."

His calm, logical tone was starting to irk me. Derek was sounding more and more strategic with each steady word he spewed out—it was a trait that I had never truly attributed with him before then. It was a trait that, no doubt, was necessary for any Alpha to survive. Nonetheless, I told him, "It wasn't the best plan."

"Was it?" he asked, cocking a thick eyebrow. "You're standing here with me now. I'd say it worked fairly well."

"Your Beta's unconscious in a janitor's closet," I pointed out.

"She'll learn to not underestimate you now."

Sighing, I shook my head, unable to believe what I was hearing. I had expected so much more of a battle, an explosive argument—instead, he was acting so cool and collected, as if he was completely in control. I wasn't quite sure if I was fond of this side of him or not. Instead of pondering his transition any longer, I asked him, "So why did you want to speak with me in the first place?"

Instead of offering me an initial reply, he simply tossed the basketball he had been clutching far away from him before taking a step towards me. Just as he opened his mouth, perhaps to ask me the questions that had inspired him to send Erica to find me, Derek cast a long glance down at me, as if he had just seen me for the first time. Frowning as if he had been taken a little off-guard, he asked in a cool tone, "Why are you dressed like that for a lacrosse game?"

Oh God, I thought to myself as I glanced down at my dress and heels, attire that Derek had most certainly never seen me in before. In our rather calm debate, I had nearly completely forgotten all about where I was supposed to be that night. Uncomfortably crossing my bare arms over my chest, I pleaded with my cheeks not to allow my blush to win out as I told him, "I actually had plans tonight. The lacrosse game was just a detour."

"Plans?" Derek repeated, an edge staining his tone as he continued to stare down at me. As if my intentions for that Friday night were abruptly spelled out before him, Derek crossed his own arms across his chest, his icy tone threatening to dissipate the heavy humidity coating the entire pool area. "Would these plans happen to involve Gavin?"

Spine stiffening simply at the sound of his name, I shortly replied, "No offense, Derek, but you've completely lost all privilege to be involved with that side of my life. I'm not going to ask about what's going on between you and Erica, so don't ask about me and Gavin."

Scoffing, Derek rolled his forest green eyes before turning his face away from me. His frustrated emotions were threatening to spill out onto the cool tile spanning below our feet, but he was desperately trying to keep them in check. Finally, as he closed his eyes and clenched his fists, Derek said, "There's nothing going on between Erica and me."

"Oh come on," I couldn't help but snort. "I'm not blind or deaf, Derek—she's clearly infatuated with you. And let's, of course, not forget about that lovely kiss you two shared." Just the memory of it put an acrid taste in my mouth, one that forced me to scowl up at him.

"That wasn't supposed to happen," he replied. "She knows now not to try anything like that with me again. And her infatuation means nothing to me. I—" Derek hesitated, clearly conflicted with just which words he should use with my presence so near to him. Eventually he said quietly, "I've made enough mistakes in my past with that aspect—I don't need to make another, not now."

At his defeated tone, I found my fury gradually starting to soften towards him. Chewing on my bottom lip as I swallowed the urge to reach my hand out to gently brush against his arm, I instead glanced down at my dress, realizing that I was never really meant to attend this date with Gavin. Whether it be fate or my own determination, I was supposed to be here, standing in this hot, sticky pool area with Derek, not running off to this dreaded date.

"The only reason I went to the lacrosse game was to get out of this….thing that I had planned with Gavin," I told him now, sighing softly before finally allowing my gaze to meet his. A moment passed by as an understanding seemed to float between the two of us, warming my bones and almost compelling me to take a step forward.

But then a soft hiss unleashed itself within that pool, resounding off the cement walls as a flash of deep emerald green spilled onto the floor behind Derek. It was exactly how Stiles had described it—almost snake-like, with four arms and legs that it prowled confidently on. Translucent, razor sharp claws protruded from its webbed hands, glimmering under the fluorescent light as they lightly scratched on the tiled floor. Rows and rows of pointed white teeth bared itself at me as it unleashed a horrible shrieking sound that immediately reminded me of nails scratching obnoxiously against a chalkboard.

Derek had spun around on his heel, hand instantly reaching behind him to roughly shove me back. "Run!" he snarled, glowing, crimson red gaze narrowed at the pacing green creature before him.

At first I almost actually obeyed Derek's order, not sure of how much help I could be as a completely defenseless witness. But then, just as I went to turn, I was forced to watch, frozen, as the creature shot forward, its glittering claws reaching to the sensitive nape of Derek's neck. Just as quickly the creature vanished, its hissing hinting at its presence just as my eyes settled on the small, thin scratch that had formed on the back of Derek's neck.

"Derek," I went to say breathlessly, to warn him of his seemingly small injury.

But then Derek's legs seemed to give out on him, his fingers numbly reaching back to his neck as he felt for the tiny droplets of blood that were staining his skin. Just as he was about to tumble to the hard ground, I sprinted forward, catching his heavy body with my arms hooked under his arms. "I got you," I told him, just managing to slip his long arm over my shoulders as I fearfully glanced around the pool, searching for that creature that had somehow managed to paralyze Derek. "Where is it?"

"I don't—" Derek began, examining our surroundings as well just as I took another step forward.

My foot abruptly snagged in a bright yellow net that someone had foolishly left out. Instantly I pitched forward, losing my grip on Derek as he, as if in slow motion, slipped under the surface of the water. Watching in horror, I took no notice of the creature beginning to near me, fury building in its hauntingly golden eyes. Instead, I dove straight into the pool, ignoring the loud beat of my heart resounding in my ears. All that mattered was that I reached Derek in time, before he was left completely paralyzed under the surface for too long.

* * *

**So this is where I must end this chapter. I hope you all enjoyed it, as well as the return of Derek. I'm sure quite a few of you had missed him. ;) Thank you so much for reading, and please don't forget to leave a review! **


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**How awesome was that last episode, right? I personally wasn't a big fan of those scenes between Derek and Miss Blake—don't get me started, I might begin ranting, lol—but other than that issue, the acting was pretty spot on. That last scene between Scott and Stiles…I'm still choking up just thinking about it, haha. I just want to warn you all that there are some slightly dark themes in this chapter, so you've been warned. Well, I won't keep you all hanging—here is the next installment of "Howl":**

**Favorite Line:**

"_I hate it when you're right."_

* * *

Silence. With all the chaos unleashing itself right above me with that strange supernatural creature roaming around the pool, it was just a relief to slip under the surface of the sloshing pool water and allow pure, undiluted silence to permeate my senses. My heels were dangling from the tips of my toes, threatening with each of my jerking movements to slowly float down to the smooth bottom of the pool. The skirt of my dress billowed out from underneath me, almost forming a floating tent around my waist. In that brief moment, an endless supply of thoughts could have rushed through my mind, distracting me from the true reason why I had jumped into that pool. But then my stinging eyes spotted Derek's motionless body drifting away from me.

In an instant I shoved myself forward, fighting the reluctant current to hurriedly reach Derek's body. He was slipping farther down, his arms limply outstretched as his eyes had slipped shut. As I was forced to travel deeper and deeper to catch the paralyzed Alpha, a sharp pressure settled itself onto my chest, as if an open palm was thrusting me backwards. My lungs shrieked for me to just stop and take a breath for one second, to allow my body to adjust to the abrupt change in my surroundings. Not for one second did I allow myself to stop. None of that agony mattered—all that was encompassing my mind was making sure that Derek wouldn't drown right before my eyes.

Once Derek's body gently landed on the pool floor, I finally reached him. My arms hooked underneath his arms, hoisting his heavy body upwards despite my muscles pleading with me to wait just one second. Ignoring them, I continued to heave Derek back to the surface, where he would finally be able to breathe. I couldn't bring myself to even hesitate for just a second to glance down at his face, to see if he was still conscious—some part of my body was quite positive that I probably didn't want to be aware of that answer. Instead, I swam upward as fast as I could, my legs kicking so ferociously that I barely noticed that my shoes had finally vanished from my feet.

We broke through the surface of the pool, my mouth instantly opening to breathe in as much precious air as possible. Once my lungs were satisfied once more, I hurriedly lifted Derek's arm over my shoulders, his dead weight nearly causing my body to sink until I furiously forced both of our bodies up. Risking a glance down at Derek, I found him coughing the water from his lungs, his skin exceptionally pale as he finally managed to calm himself down.

"Are you alright?" I couldn't help but ask him. Instantly he shot me a pointed glare, clearly not exactly in the mood for a useless question. "Yeah, stupid question," I mumbled.

"Where is it? Did you see it?" he asked me, his face twisted slightly in pain. I abruptly realized that he was instinctively going to move his arms and legs and was quickly finding that he was still, in fact, paralyzed from the neck down.

"I saw it just before I jumped in here," I replied, hastily looking around in search of the slippery creature. We were almost directly in the center of the pool, making it almost too easy to get the best view of the entire pool area. In an instant, I spotted the creature pacing back and forth by the pool side, his claws lightly scratching at the tile almost impatiently. Immediately I went to swim backwards, putting some space between us, but then I noticed the creature pitching forward towards the edge of the pool, its hand reaching out to brush against the water for just a second before hurdling backwards, as if burned. "It can't go in the water…," I couldn't help but marvel, eyes open wide as I stared up at it. "It's like it's afraid of it."

"Still doesn't help us," said Derek, his annoyed tone forcing me to twist my neck around to face him.

"What do you mean?" I replied, furrowing my brow. "We're safe in here for now. That thing can't come near us."

"And did you forget that I'm paralyzed and we're floating in twelve feet of water?" he snapped.

"Oh, is that we're doing?" I couldn't help but tell him sarcastically, not exactly fond of his tone. Ignoring the bubble of pain forming in my side and the exhaustion creeping into my voice, I added, "I thought we'd just decided to take a short swim in our clothes."

"Is that really necessary?"

"Is your yelling at me really necessary?" I retorted, forcing myself to push back the idea of just dropping him in the water. I mean, my God-he didn't need to jump down my throat just for trying to be somewhat optimistic.

Both of us clearly too furious with one another to utter another word, I cast another long glance at our surroundings, only to have my gaze settle on the creature. Unwavering, luminescent golden eyes stared back at me, refusing to blink for just a second as it continued to circle the entire perimeter of the pool, as if positive that there was some secret entrance that it would discover during its pacing. There was no doubt that it would not give up on hunting us down just like that—the hunger deep within its eyes proved that.

"Does anyone know that you're in here?" I asked Derek, allowing my gaze to linger on the creature for just a second longer before glancing over at my reluctant companion.

"Erica, but you made pretty quick work of her," he replied, his mouth twisting into either a tight smile or a grimace—I wasn't too sure. "And she wasn't exactly thrilled with me anyways."

Despite our situation, my curiosity over why on Earth Erica had been so upset with Derek was dangling at the tip of my tongue. But, sensing that this wasn't exactly the best time, I bit my questions back and asked, "Boyd and Isaac?"

"No. Isaac had to stay behind—being a fugitive and all—and Boyd's already gone. You?"

"Scott and Stiles," I told him, the phone call I had received from my cousin seemingly ages before still distantly ringing in my ears. "But Scott's probably still at the game and Stiles…" Did I want to tell Derek just what I had been doing at the high school that night? He would, no doubt, be furious that I had kept my meeting with Gerard a secret from him, and it certainly didn't seem like the time to let him in on just what had happened.

Instead, I cast a glance over at the pool side, right where the creature was continuing to stalk us. There, right by his back leg, was my purse, dropped during the initial scuffle before Derek had been nicked by the creature's poisonous claws. Swallowing nervously as an idea began to sprout in my mind, I forced my eyes to turn back to Derek's. "I can call him," I told him. "He can find Scott and—"

"Where's your phone?" Derek interrupted me, his eyes narrowing with each word as he tried to wriggle my plan out of me.

"In my purse over there," I said, vaguely gesturing with the back of my head to the side of the pool now opposite from where the creature was. "I can get over there and grab it before that thing gets ahold of me. It can't get in the water—I'll be fine."

"Too dangerous," snapped Derek, no doubt wishing he could shake his head at that very moment. It just seemed like something he would do. "You're not fast enough. It could grab you and drag you right out of the water. Too risky."

"So what do we do then, Derek?" I couldn't help but impatiently ask him. "Just sit around and pray that someone realizes that something's going on in here? Or maybe wait for the paralysis to wear off so you can defend yourself? Even though that's probably not the best idea since your system may go into shock from too much stress."

"I'd be fine—"

"You're not invincible, Derek," I told him, softening my tone as I stared down at him. I had already made my decision, and, unfortunately for him, I was the one in control of the situation. "Derek, you have to trust me. Just this once."

Sighing, Derek glared over at the creature, who was continuing to unabashedly watch us. "It's not you I don't trust."

"I'll be quick," I swore to him, already loosening my grip on his arm. "Deep breath."

Gently I cradled his shoulders, muscles pleading with me to finally let him go. But I couldn't help but hesitate, my gaze lingering on his face as he stoically stared up at me. I was positive that his helplessness was driving him absolutely insane. His jaw was clenched, poorly stifled rage still freshly throbbing within his forest green eyes. For someone who was so determined to have everything within his control and who was also rather notorious for being impatient, this was killing him. But, for once, I had to be the one to save him this time—and I'd be damned if I'd allow either of us to die in that pool that night. "I'll be right back," I whispered to him, hesitating for one second lowering him into water.

Not allowing myself to waste a single second, I hastily swam towards my purse, vaguely aware of the pricked ears of the creature. As soon as I had begun to thrash forward, the warm water rippling out all around me, it had started to dash forward, clearly conflicted with whether to bound into the frightening water or to take the alternate route around the pool. As its claws struck noisily against the smooth tile, the sound coming closer and closer by the second, my fingers reached out for the strap of my purse. I yanked it towards me, allowing it to bob on the rocking waves as the creature loomed above me. It lashed its arm out at me, tips of its claws just nearly missing my cheek, but I managed to swerve away from them, floating just far away enough where I was out of its reach.

Refusing to even breathe, I furiously searched through my floating purse, snatching up both my cell phone and another silver item before turning to phone. Blindly I dialed Stiles' number, glancing over my shoulder to make sure that Derek hadn't been under the surface for too long. I had lost count of the seconds—minutes now?—that he had been unable to breathe, but I didn't want to push it.

_Ring, ring_

_Ring, ring._

_Ring, ri—_

"Hey, Jane—"

"Stiles!" I shrieked, nearly crying in pure relief that he had answered. "That thing attacked me and Derek and we're stuck in the pool! Get Scott in here _now_!"

Without even allowing him to utter another word, I hung up and threw my phone over the side of the pool, vaguely hearing it clatter onto the dark tile. Taking in one last breath, I dove under the surface, racing to get to Derek in time. Again, the currents threatened to shove me away from him, slight pains ripping through my biceps as I returned to the bottom of the pool for the second time. Again, I wrapped my arms almost gingerly around Derek's torso as I dragged him back to the surface before he could be threatened anymore by the warm pool water surrounding us both.

"Derek!" I yelled as soon as we were both cresting, gentle waves tickling at my cheeks and causing my eyes to burn at the chlorine infiltrating my sensitive skin.

"Get him?" He sounded winded, as if he had just ran an entire marathon as a human. Fortunately he was speaking to me, so it was a plus nonetheless.

"Yeah," I hurriedly told him. "He'll find Scott and bring him here. We'll get out of here soon, I promise."

Derek parted his lips to reply, but his eyes glanced down into the great body of water that spanned outwards all around us. Something silver was glinting in the water, something that was clutched in my hand tightly against his side. "What is that?"

Awkwardly I managed to shift Derek's heavy arm back over my shoulders, wincing slightly at the immense weight threatening to dunk us both under the rocky waters. Swallowing the pain, I slipped the silver object into my free hand and hesitantly lifted it up to his face. "It's….just in case," I told him, my gaze flitting down to the small switch blade.

Derek stared with hard eyes down at the blade, the tight muscles within his jaw ticking slightly as his brow furrowed. Something was clicking deep within his mind, the wheels churning as he silently watched me tighten my hand into a closed fist and returned the clasped knife back to my side.

"What is it?" I asked him, catching his strange expression.

"There is…something you could do," he began, hesitation causing his voice to slowly drag his words out. His breathing was growing heavier as each moment rolled by. "If you triggered the healing process, it could speed up pushing the venom out of my system."

"How?" I asked, not exactly following his train of thought.

Initially Derek said nothing, clenching his jaw as his narrowed gaze drifted downward to my clenched fist. Sighing, his eyelids slipped close, as if he was seconds away from uttering a dark secret. But his response was even worse, one that forced my insides to immediately seize one another. "Stab me."

My jaw slackened, my fingers loosening ever so slightly that I nearly allowed my blade to slip from my grip. "W-what?" I stammered, tightening my fist and blinking down at Derek. "Are y-you out of your mind?!"

"If you stab me, it would work," he explained, as if he was reading a recipe for homemade bread instead of trying to convince me to shove the blade of my knife into his body. "The paralysis should wear off faster, so we don't have to be stuck here like two sitting ducks."

"Scott's coming—"

"And we don't know how long that'll be," Derek cut me off, his tone hardening with each word he spewed out. "You're already getting tired from holding me up. We can't keep sitting here."

"I'm not tired," I couldn't help but snap defensively, even though we were both fairly positive that was a lie. Even though I had certainly built up my muscle endurance since the night Derek had become an Alpha, it wasn't exactly easy holding up Derek's dead weight for such a time now. Having to dive for him twice now had especially torn away at my strength, causing my cheeks to flush and my muscles to whine in agony. Realizing that, as he always did, Derek could see right through my lie, I still shook my head, saying softly, "I…I can't—"

"You have to," he reasoned. "In order to get out alive, you have to do this. You once were willing to cut off my arm for me. Why should this be any different?"

"Because our backs were against the wall!" I argued, stomach squirming just at the reminder of that memory. Pool water kept pooling in my mouth, but I refused to let it stop me from continuing, "It was our last chance of saving you, and I didn't want to see you die. But we still have a chance here, Derek. And we don't even know how this venom works—what if it doesn't just paralyze your body? What if you can't heal yourself and you bleed out? What are we supposed to do then?"

Derek said nothing, only frowning slightly, as if he actually hadn't considered that possibility. His gaze flickered over to the creature, who appeared as if it was closely listening to our conversation as well. "Then you have a better chance of surviving," he finally replied, intense forest green eyes piercing my insides. "No matter what, you'll find a way out."

Tears stung at my eyes, eventually trickling down my damp cheeks and slipping into the pool of warm water surrounding us. Shaking my head, eyes clamped shut, I refused to relent. "I'm not doing it," I shakily told him.

"Yes, you are."

"No, I can't."

"You can—"

"NO!" I snarled at him, trembling with fury that he was asking me to do this. How could he assume that it would be so easy for me to run my knife through him, to possibly harm him so badly when he was in such a vulnerable state? "I'm not going to put you in danger, Derek. Not just to save my life. I can't do that. I won't."

At first, Derek said nothing, instead just mutely glaring at me for a long moment. But then, just as the only sound caressing my ears was the soft splash of chlorine-scented water, I heard it. A low laugh slipped from in between Derek's lips, its eerily dark tone nearly splitting me in half. "I should have known better," he said coldly, the hard chuckle still dripping with sarcasm. "The one thing I ask you to do, and you can't even do that. Maybe it was a good thing you never wanted to be bitten—you're too weak. You can barely stomach reality—how could you possibly handle the life of a werewolf?"

"Stop it," I whispered, knowing all too well what he was trying to do but still unable to stem the bleeding within me. "Please—"

"No," said Derek harshly. "I won't stop. I should have known it from the day we met. You were just this mousy, stuttering mess that I should've just walked away from. You have no mother, no father, and yet you can't even survive on your own. If you can't handle doing whatever it takes to save yourself, then you're weaker than I thought. Go ahead, prove me wrong. Do it. Do. It. I said—"

Hand surprisingly steady, I allowed my temper to grip my mind and control my next movements. Snapping the blade open, I shoved it straight into Derek's stomach, piercing his taut skin and allowing the flesh to crumble around the blade. A slight groan emitted from him, waking me from my furious trance and forcing me to stare down at my latest mistake. Catching the flash of agony and slight satisfaction within his gaze, my jaw slackened, unable to believe what I had just done. "Derek, I—"

"I guess you're stronger than I thought," he smirked feebly, although a grimace instantly replaced that sarcastic grin. "Take the blade out."

"But, you'll bleed out—"

"No, I won't," Derek cut me off, his voice surprisingly gentle now. "Take it out."

Taking in a deep breath, I just managed to yank the blade from his torso, wincing at the spurt of crimson blood that followed. The stained metal slipped from in between my fingers, drifting towards the bottom of the pool to join my lost shoes. It didn't really matter to me, not anymore. "I'm sorry," I whispered to him, horrified with myself. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," said Derek simply.

"Is it…Is it healing?" I asked him anxiously, not positive if I wanted to hear his response.

His jaw clenched, as if he wasn't quite sure if he could even offer me a reply. "Can't tell," he finally said. "I can't feel anything."

Hesitantly I pressed my fingers into his open wound, wincing at the sound of his muffled groan. "Just…let me see," I told him softly, praying that this wouldn't hurt him too badly. Gently I prodded my tip of my index finger around his insides, feeling if perhaps the tendons were beginning to rebuild themselves. When I felt not a single movement surrounding my outstretched finger, I whispered in terror, "Nothing's happening. You're not healing. I don't…there's nothing happening to you."

"I hate it when you're right," said Derek lightly, as if I hadn't just stabbed him in his most vulnerable moment just minutes before. His eyelids seemed to become heavy, skin paling as each breathless second ticked by. Diluted blood was clouding from his stomach, coating my hand as I hastily returned it back to my side. I must have nicked a vein or something—there must have been _some _reason there was so much blood.

"Derek?" I asked, eyes wide as I blinked down at him. "Derek!"

Before he had even a chance to respond—if he even could—the heavy metal door of the pool burst open, clanging against the nearby cement wall as Scott, Stiles, and Erica streamed through, all their gazes instantly zeroing on the stalking creature who seemed to almost grin gleefully at the sight of its new prey. In an instant, it bounded forward, its warning shrieks bouncing off the bare walls wrapping us in its territory.

Scott sprinted towards the creature, meeting it head-on as the young Beta flung its scaly being against the concrete wall. Their roars and growls were ferocious enough to shake the entire building, but I paid no attention as I hurriedly waded over to the edge where Stiles and Erica were. Stiles flung himself into the water, splashing water all over as he hastily swam a few paces towards me. "Jane—"

"Take him," I said immediately, forcing Derek's other side into my cousin's grip. Judging from his expression, he seemed far more concerned with my safety than Derek's, but I hurriedly added, "I'm fine. He's not though."

In a brief moment we were floating by the edge of the pool, Erica crouched down right above us from the tiled floor. She easily lifted Derek out of the water, tenderly laying him on the floor as she paid no attention to me. Her cold shoulder hardly affected me—after all, I had locked in her janitor's closet—as Stiles scrambled out of the pool and twisted around to help me out of the water. My dress was absolutely ruined, dripping chlorine water all over but I paid no mind to it as I hastily crawled over to Derek.

"Why's he bleeding?" demanded Erica, shooting me a suspicious glare as if she was all-too aware of what had happened in that pool. Only a few feet away, Scott was flashing a shard of glass at the creature. Abruptly it shot out of the room through the glass fixture, scattering pieces of the fragile material all across the surface of the pool. I barely paid attention to any of this—my focus was solely on Derek. "How come he's not healing?"

"It's the venom," I explained, fleetingly pressing my shaking fingers to Derek's cold, stubbled cheek before going to examine his wound. Just as I prodded my hand onto his damp shirt, I noticed the slight movement of his torn skin, sending shocks of relief throughout my body. "It's healing now."

As if he had heard me, Derek's eyes shot open, instantly going to push himself up. His gaze flickered over Stiles' and Erica's faces before settling on mine. Before my eyes his jaw clenched, face hardening as he curtly nodded. "Where's the—"

"Scott scared it away," I told him, leaning back on my ankles as I unleashed a heavy sigh. Scott was striding over to us, still gripping that shard of glass as if he couldn't quite believe what had happened. A hand gripped my shoulder, and I smiled weakly up at Stiles.

"It's over," he said to me, his shaken smile betraying his horrible attempt of hiding his fear.

That thing was still out there. All I could think about was being trapped in that pool with Derek, completely helpless once more. Pricking at my palms with my nails, I sighed before replying softly, "Not yet."

* * *

**And that is the end of this chapter! Hope you all enjoyed! Please don't forget to leave a review. (:**


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Last week's episode….wow, I'm just so honestly depressed after watching it. Not only was it emotionally draining, but, once again, we were all forced to watch the bland, dreadful character that is Jennifer Blake continue to slip through this season. Don't get me wrong, I absolutely adore Haley Webb, but the writing for her character so far been has been so Twilight-esque that I cringe whenever she has a single line of dialogue. Before I go into a total rant about this, I just wanted to give you guys some updates about some possible stories I will be starting sometime soon. The first is one that I actually first started about a year ago based on the Harry Potter universe; I'm still a little hesitant about restarting this story, as I've had some issues with plotting it out in the past. The second, however, is one that I feel many of you will enjoy—it was be a Teen Wolf one, and revolve around an Isaac/OC pairing. He's honestly become one of my favorite characters this season, and I'd really enjoy bringing some life to his character on my own. However, before I get started on writing these stories, I will definitely try to finish this story before anything else. I may publish a few chapters for the Isaac/OC story, but that's only because the damn show is pushing me way too much into thinking of this plot, haha. Well, I believe that's all for now. (: Without further ado, here is the next installment of "Howl":**

**Favorite Line:**

_Um, I'm actually not sure. You choose! (:_

* * *

"Jane, we're here."

Initially those hesitant, soft words did not register within my sleep-deprived mind. Instead, with my forehead gingerly resting atop the chilly, thick glass of the passenger window, my heavy eyelids remained shut. Sharp flashes of icy sea foam eyes and gusts of fire threatening to sear my skin smeared my vision, stifling my ability to be fully aware of reality. The dull tips of my fingernails dug lightly into my palms, the slight pain doing absolutely nothing to suppress my current nightmare. Vaguely I could feel the slight pressure of my bare heels pushing into the underside of thighs, the warmth from curling up into a tight ball spreading throughout my lazy limbs.

It was only when a hand gently grasped at my shoulder that I jolted awake, wildly peering around for just a moment as the terrifying sensation of being utterly lost nearly drowned me. Fortunately, as my familiar apartment building loomed above me and the tiny square windows cast a dull glow on the inside of my car, I was able to ease my nerves and twist my neck around to face whoever it was who had grabbed at my shoulder. The face almost shyly smiling down at me was most definitely the last one I had ever expected to see that late at night.

"Sorry," said Scott, his outstretched hand now retreating back to his side as he awkwardly grinned at me. "I didn't mean to scare you."

I shook my head, offering him a weak smile as I lightly pressed my fingertips into my aching neck, struggling to massage those nagging kinks away. "It's alright," I told him, glancing over my shoulder to find that familiar Jeep's bright headlights shining through my back window. "Thanks, again, for driving me home. You really didn't have to."

"Believe it or not, Stiles was right," replied Scott. "You weren't exactly in the best state to drive."

"_Jane," came Stiles' pointed words, deliberately dragging my gaze away from Derek's retreating back and back to my cousin. _

_As I blinked blankly up at him, my mind couldn't help but reel with the onslaught of information it had just received? A Kanima? Sure, I had stumbled across vampires and werewolves and faeries and quite a few other supernatural creatures throughout my readings over the years, but never had I heard of a Kanima. And yet, after hearing Scott lament to both Stiles and myself how the Kanima had reacted so strangely at the shard of glass, Derek had stepped forward with this name. He had been quite positive that this was the creature that had decided to conduct a murderous warpath within the confines of the not-so-sleepy town of Beacon Hills. Of course, Derek did not have much information on this Kanima. Supposedly, according to him, all there was to run on was rumors and myths that had spread around the supernatural world for many, many years. So it seemed that, despite our learning of just what we were up against, we were still submerged in darkness._

_Before Stiles could even spill out a single word, I noticed a slight prickling at the back of my neck. Furrowing my brow, I glanced over my shoulder to find Erica peeking back at me beside her Alpha. Those narrowed hazelnut eyes settled on me for just a moment, appearing almost puzzled as her plump lips settled into a rigid line. However, once she realized that I had taken notice of her hesitant stare, Erica instantly twisted her neck back around, bouncy blonde curls whipping alongside her. I simply rolled my eyes at the strange occurrence, not exactly prepared to concern myself with the flash of contempt that seemed to flare up within her at the mere sight of me. I was a little too preoccupied with what had transpired between her Alpha and myself to allow myself to care._

_Just before Derek left, he'd had this strange look in his eyes before his gaze met mine, as if he wasn't quite sure what to say to me. Even after we had been trapped within the tumultuous waters of the Olympic-sized pool and he had somehow conned me into stabbing him, he couldn't come up with a single word to spurt out at me. Instead, he simply offered me one last curt nod before turning away. _

_Silently I was forced to watch his back for just a single moment before forcing myself to return my gaze to my cousin's face, who looked lost for words himself. "Yeah?" I croaked, my voice straining as exhaustion threatened to blanket my entire being. _

"_I'm going to take you home," said Stiles, shaking his head once I parted my lips to argue. "You can't drive yourself, Jane. I don't care what you say—you can barely stay awake right now. I mean, look at yourself."_

_Frowning, I followed my cousin's orders, glancing down at my body as I numbly dug into my purse for my car keys. The heavy musty scent from the towel Stiles had managed to retrieve from his Jeep for me continued to tickle my nose, the scratchy cotton material doing quite little to rescue my bare skin from the chill of the night. My dress was surely ruined, the chlorine having stained the rich material that, just a few days ago, Lydia had managed to help me find. It seemed like years ago that I had stumbled upon the crimson-haired girl, and yet it was only a few days. Closing my eyes, I sighed and made to nod when a stray thought brushed against the interior of my mind. "You can't," I told him. "I need my car for my classes tomorrow and you need your Jeep for school."_

_Initially Stiles said nothing, chewing on his bottom lip thoughtfully as he struggled to come up with a solution. However, it was his best friend, who had been silently watching our exchange from a couple steps away, who stepped up. _

"_I'll do it," said Scott, striding forward so he was standing beside me. "I'll drive you home in your car, and Stiles can follow behind us in his Jeep. It works out for everyone."_

"_You don't need to—"_

"_Yes, I do," he cut me off, nodding at Stiles one last time before plucking my car keys out of my hand. _

"Well, don't go telling him that," I told Scott now, the corners of my mouth twitching. "I'm pretty sure the last thing this world needs is Stiles having a big head."

Scott chuckled, shaking his head as his gaze flickered back to that Jeep. Despite our teasing, I had no doubt that there was some special bond between those two. Not only were they seemingly connected at the hip, but the care and love they shared with one another was so strong that I couldn't help but feel a little envious. Did I really have anyone in my life that I could count on like that? Sure, I had my uncle and my grandparents, but they had no idea what was going on within my life, and I wasn't planning on changing that anytime soon. And Derek…well, I honestly didn't even know what we shared anymore.

"Jane?"

Scott's voice startled me out of my tangled thoughts. Flushing as I realized this was, in fact, the second time that he had managed to frighten me so, I offered him a slight smile and said, "Sorry. It's just…it's been a long day."

"Go get some sleep," he said not unkindly. "I'm sure Stiles will be calling you in the morning to make sure you're alright."

"Oh, I can count on that," I told him, rolling my eyes lightly at my overprotective cousin. As Scott went to open the driver's side door, I added, "Scott?"

"Yeah?" he asked, puzzled slightly as he twisted his neck back around to face me.

"Thanks," I smiled up at him. "And not just for driving me home. If you hadn't shown up at the pool when you did…well, I really appreciate it."

Shrugging humbly, Scott simply replied, "I've got your back. It's what friends do."

My eyebrows raised slightly, surprised by his choice of words. Scott and I had never truly spent time alone together—usually we were tossed together with Stiles or Derek—but he had a genuine expression on his face as he offered me one last smile. Perhaps it seemed that I wasn't as alone as I believed I was.

* * *

For a little over four and a half months now, I had come to recognize that horrifying sense that, as soon being plucked from the innards of my nightmares and rushed back to reality, something horrible had happened. With my eyelids still submerging my sight in darkness and my spine instantly stiffening, I would eventually take a long, deep breath before forcing myself to count backwards from ten. _Ten, nine, eight_. My ears would strain to listen for any sign of movement, whether it be the slight ruffling of my curtains as the light breeze filtered through my window screen or the ticking of my alarm clock. _Seven, six. _Fingertips twitching, I would allow the smooth, soft cotton of my sheets to brush against my bare skin, soothing my nerves. _Four, three. Shh, _I would silently whisper to myself. _Two, one. Everything will be alright._

_Zero._

I would open my eyes, allowing my relief to blanket my entire being as I realized that I was still safely tucked away in my warm bed, away from the horrors that were unfolding just outside my window. I had passed through another night unharmed, the thought so calming that I nearly allowed my manic liberation to consume me. Instead, I would brush away the few tears staining my cheeks and toss my quilt off of my uncurling body, already struggling to mentally prepare myself for the long, stressful day ahead of me.

When I awoke late that same night that Scott had dropped me off, I, as always, prepared myself for the worst. Initially it seemed like any other random awakening, after which I would eventually lay awake under my blankets, unable to will myself back to my tossing and turning slumber. But, as I began to count backwards from ten, I noticed the strange insurgence of humidity clouding the air. Sweat was pasted to the back of my neck, my thick hair continuing to stick to it as I shifted my head around, groaning slightly at the abrupt throbbing shooting up and down my neck. Dust seemed to hang within the air, coating in the interior of my throat as I forced myself to cough, desperate to get the unnerving taste out of my mouth.

"Open your eyes, Jane."

Instantly my entire body froze at the sound of that voice, that oh-so familiar voice that had haunted my dreams for four and a half months. "No," I whispered, keeping my eyes clamped shut as I struggled to comprehend what was happening. It was then I found that I was not lying in my bed, but sitting rigidly in an uncomfortable wooden chair. "You're dead."

"Am I?" asked the voice coyly. "If I was dead, I probably wouldn't be able to do this."

Rough fingers immediately grabbed a handful of my tangled hair, yanking it back and forcing my entire head to painfully lurch backwards. I gasped out in agony, eyes instantly opening as a bright light shone down from above and nearly blinded me. The fingers twisted my hair around, seemingly aiming to rip it straight from my scalp. Just as I was positive I would have to beg for the fingers to stop, they released their grip on my hair. I inhaled a sharp breath of air in relief, going to reach back and rub my sore scalp, only to realize that my hands were bound behind my back.

"A little familiar, isn't it?" said the voice, dripping with poorly contained amusement. It seemed to be emitting from the shadows right before me. Wherever I was, there was nothing within the room I was locked in—only the dangling light and darkness surrounding me. "I figured you would best remember me if I made the…circumstances just as when we first met. You do remember that, Jane, don't you?"

"How could I not?" I couldn't help but bite out, straining against the chains digging into my wrists. "It's a bit difficult to forget a heartless woman who tortures you for her own benefit."

"Oh," said Kate, the violent light doing nothing to hinder the bright smirk planted on her face as she stepped out of the shadows, "I would hardly say that all that fun was solely for my benefit. After all, I was searching for information to protect you."

"Protect _me_?" I scoffed. "That would be a first. I'm quite positive that your family only knows how to protect themselves."

Instead of Kate, another vaguely familiar male voice flooded the room, this one a tad bit raspier and seemingly developing a slight cough. "Now, now, Jane," said the voice. "Why all of this hostility towards my family? Surely we have never done anything to harm you before you became involved in this pesky business."

At first I frowned, trying to place this oddly familiar voice as I stared past Kate's smirking face and straight into the darkness that she was standing in front of. As if the person realized I was searching for their face, he stepped forward, lined face smiling so serenely down at me as if we were meeting for coffee instead of meeting for an interrogation. I moved to inch away from him, only to find that I was firmly cemented to the chair, iron chains forcing me motionless.

"You must realize that your encounter with my daughter, while rather violent, was solely based on your unfortunate ties to Derek," said Gerard, unfazed by my continued struggles against my restraints. "It was out of our hands, Jane."

"And what about burning the entire Hale family?" I snarled, going to lean forward but finding that I was still chained to that damn chair. "Was that 'out of your hands'?!"

"I'm not sure how that really affects you, Jane," said Gerard, apparently unfazed by my furious tone. "It wasn't your family—"

"It was the family of someone I love!" I shouted, my cracking voice echoing off the walls shrouded in darkness all around the three of us. "It shattered him—you used and manipulated him to destroy his entire world. And for what? He never did anything! His family never—"

"You have no idea what you are talking about," Kate cut me off warningly, her eyes narrowing as she made to step forward. "Now I suggest you hold that tongue of yours before I rip it out of your mouth."

"Now Kate," said Gerard, still surprisingly calm considering the entire tense situation, "let's not get overheated here. After all, we have a job to finish."

At first Kate said nothing, continuing to glare at me with such vehemence that I was quite positive she would like nothing more than to slit my throat right then and there. But, finally, she crossed her arms over her chest and sighed. "Fine," she snapped irritably. "Let's make sure it's as slow as possible though. I want to at least enjoy this."

Before I could possibly consider just what Kate and Gerard had "planned" for me, the creature that had haunted Derek and me at the pool emerged from the darkness as well, hissing as it sauntered on all fours around me. I instantly shrunk away from it, eyes wide as I mutely watched it.

"You see, Jane," said Gerard, his calm tone unable to drag my gaze from the Kanima, "we have quite a plan for you. We're going to let the Kanima rip you apart—piece by piece—in a painstakingly slow process. I must say, it will be quite agonizing. And then, when we are quite positive you are on the brink of death, we will stop it and take your nearly lifeless body to Derek. And then, for the first time in his life, he can watch as the person he loves most dies right in front him. Once he's at the peak of devastation, perhaps we'll show some mercy and take his life away from him. We haven't gotten that far in our plan yet."

Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes as I forced myself to turn away from the Kanima for just a second to stare in terror up at Gerard. That pleasant smile was still planted on his face, as if he was quite enjoying my absolute horror. "Please, don't do this. I'm begging you, please. Don't—"

At Gerard's tiny nod, the Kanima lurched forward, its claws slicing into my stomach and allowing my blood to splash onto the cement floor. Agony swam within my veins, shrieks of torment and torture burning the back of my throat. The next set of claws latched themselves into my upper thigh, tearing the skin so deeply that I was quite positive the tips were brushing against the smooth surface of my bone.

"PLEASE!" I screamed, struggling against my restraints. My eyelids slipped closed, cold sweat dripping down my pale cheeks. "PLEASE, STOP! STOP!"

"Jane!" Gerard abruptly shouted, his voice deepening ever so slightly as his cough seemed to dissipate from his voice. "Jane!"

"NO! MAKE IT STOP! PLEASE, STOP!"

"JANE, WAKE UP! JANE!"

My eyes opened wide, finding that Gerard, Kate, and the strange room I had been restrained in had all vanished. Instead, they were replaced with the wonderfully familiar décor of my bedroom. My entire body was drenched in a cold sweat, damp hair plastered to my forehead as I struggled to breathe. Dried tears stained my cheeks, the salty moisture even tingling atop my lips. And there, straddling my hips, was Derek, his face exceptionally pale as he gazed down at me with such blatant fear that I was quite positive this was a dream as well.

Slowly my stare glided down from Derek's face to his hands, which were gripping at my forearms so tightly that light bruises were already spattering on my fair skin. I caught a glimpse of the tangled pink lines forming on Derek's own arms, the scratches already beginning to heal right before my eyes. My eyes widened as I realized that his skin was now clutched underneath my fingernails, my voice breaking as I stammered, "D-Derek, I'm so—"

"Don't," he interrupted me, his surprisingly gentle voice dragging me back to those penetrating forest green eyes. "It's alright, Jane," he added. "It was just a dream."

For a brief moment, we simply stayed there, gazing at one another as I truly was confounded on what to say. That nightmare…it had been so realistic that I even caught myself glancing down at my torso and thighs to make sure they were still intact. Derek, perhaps sensing that I was in fact staring at his continued grip on my arms, instantly released my arms, his hands hesitating before returning awkwardly back to his sides. Breathlessly I was forced to watch as his right hand twitched towards me, as some deep instinct was taking control of his limbs, but, before I could even blink, his jaw clenched and his fingers stopped moving.

As Derek went to slip off of me and stand flat-footed on my carpeted floor, I opened my mouth to say something, anything to him—perhaps to find out what exactly he was doing in my bedroom or to explain why I had been screaming bloody murder while still in the clutches of my sleep. But, before any words could spurt from my lips, I caught wind of the irritated voices creeping from outside my thin apartment door, blood draining from my face at the sound. No doubt my neighbors were not exactly thrilled to be woken up in the middle of the night by the rather familiar, terrified shrieks of the strange girl next door.

"I-I have to go out there," I whispered, going to sit up from my damp pillow slide out from in between my sheets, but Derek's hand instantly gripped my shoulder, halting me.

Gently he pushed back down, his eyes oddly avoiding mine as he softly told me, "I'll take care of it."

"I'm alright," I tried to argue, but Derek simply shook his head.

"Just stay here," he said before striding out of my room, still refusing to meet my gaze.

Silently I nodded, for once relieved that Derek was able to take care of this problem without me. Just after he strode out of my bedroom, I glanced down at my bare legs, only to find them shrouded in goosebumps and glistening with sweat. Even in my sleep shorts and t-shirt, I was still somehow drenched in cold sweat, my palms exceptionally damp as I wiped them on the soft cotton of my shirt. Despite the lack of blood, I still lifted up the hem of my shirt, glancing down at my stomach to double check and make sure that I did not, in fact, have five deep, long gashes embedded into my torso. It had seemed so real…but, of course, all of my nightmares in the past had seemed that way as well.

Before I could dabble on it any longer, Derek returned to my room, that comforting stare finally returning to my face as he told me, "They're gone. They didn't seem particularly surprised by waking up to you screaming."

Flushing, I tilted my gaze down to the floor and softly admitting, "It hasn't been the first time. Normally I can stay in a light enough sleep where I can't dream, but after tonight…I guess I was too exhausted to care."

Derek's eyes narrowed slightly at my response, but he nonetheless nodded as he reluctantly stepped forward. It was as if he wasn't sure of what to do at that moment. Perhaps some part of him was ordering him to leave me, that this was a bad idea. But, fortunately, his other side guided him to my bed, allowing him to sit on the edge. Instinctively I shifted my legs away from him, sitting up against my pillow and folding my legs under my bottom.

"Are you alright?" Derek finally asked, intense gaze boring so sharply into me that I was quite positive I didn't even need to answer. He could see right through me, into the inner-workings of my mind and snatch whatever response he needed.

Biting my bottom lip as those memories from my latest nightmare—the Kanima, Gerard, Kate—clutched at my throat, I found myself shaking my head. "I don't think I am," I confessed lowly. I wiped at my dry cheek, finding the sticky, dried tears were still staining my skin.

"What did you see?"

At first, I pressed my lips together, unsure if I wanted to tell Derek the truth. How could I tell him that, while he had clearly gotten over the torture we had endured in the cold hands of Kate Argent, I had not? He would only see me as a weak little girl, just as he had so effortlessly described that same night in the pool. But, I couldn't bring myself to lie to him—with how poorly our relationship or friendship or whatever he wanted to call it was going, it seemed that more lies was just going to drown it.

"It was Kate," I finally told him, closing my eyes as those prodding visions continued to flash right before me. "It's normally always her in some twisted manner. This time there was Gerard too, and this…Kanima." Opening my eyes, I was startled to find Derek gazing straight at me, his eyes narrowed as he listened to me closely. Shaking my head and more than willing to spare him the gory details, I finished with a slight shake of my head, "It was just a nightmare. Nothing more."

Derek cast a long glance around at my bedroom, his eyes settling briefly on my familiar wooden desk before returning back to me. It certainly hadn't changed all that much since Derek had been in my last bedroom. Sure, it was a different building, but I made sure to keep the décor as similar as possible. It was comforting, exactly what anyone needed in the one place they could not bring themselves to sleep without facing monsters at every moment.

"When your apartment was broken into," Derek began, stretching his long fingers to brush against the soft material of my pale yellow quilt, "you said that you were used to not getting much sleep. How long have you been having these nightmares?"

Now certainly unwilling to meet his gaze, I tangled all of my ten fingers together and reluctantly replied, "Ever since that night that you became an Alpha." When he said nothing in reply, I quietly added, a fresh wave of tears stinging at my eyes, "Derek…I think I'm going crazy. I can't sleep anymore, not like I used to. Even after what happened to my dad…I was still able to sleep, to at least get some sort of peace at night. But now…I can't sleep, Derek. Not without seeing blood at least once in the middle of the night. Your blood, my blood, the blood of the people I love—I don't think I'll ever be able to sleep again, and I-I…I don't—"

Derek tenderly shushed me, abruptly reaching those warm fingers up to my cool, damp cheek and wiping away those tears. "It'll be okay," he whispered simply, continuing to cradle my face in the palm of his hand as he shifted closer to me. "It'll be okay, Jane."

Swallowing the lump at the back of my throat, I nodded, grasping his wrist in my hand and leaning my face into his hand. I found my eyelids beginning to slip closed, his fingers continuing to lightly press into my cheek. The gentle touch of his calloused hand was so wonderfully familiar that all of my stress and pain seemed to float away, quelling my fears so easily as if they were truly nothing at all. As my curiosities began to drift, I breathed out, "Why did you come? How did you even get in?"

"To make sure you were alright," Derek finally replied, his thumb now softly caressing the sensitive skin of my cheek. My tears had begun to cease, and yet he made no such move to remove himself from me. "I was just on your floor when I heard you screaming. That's when I broke down your front door."

"The deadbolt…"

"You may need to replace that," he said, causing me to chuckle despite the entire situation we had found ourselves in once more.

Sighing, I opened my eyes, offering Derek a slightly watery smile as he blatantly stared at me. A soft groan slipped from in between his lips as he shook his head. "I should leave," said Derek, his fingers lingering on my cheek. "I probably shouldn't have come here in the first place."

"Don't," I told him, tightening my grip on my wrist as I felt him pulling away from me once more. I didn't want to see him leave, not now. "Don't go—not yet. Just stay for a little bit. Please, Derek."

Reluctantly the Alpha before me nodded, clearly battling within himself to make this unbalanced decision. "Just for a little longer," he relented, somehow tugging his wrist out of my grip and bringing his hand back to his side.

Nodding in reply, my own hands drifted back to my lap, tangling with one another once more. Dipping my head forward to rather shyly stare down at them, I glanced up through the long, thick curtain of my dark hair to softly ask him, "Are you alright? After…after what happened in the pool…"

"I'm fine," shrugged Derek, shifting almost uncomfortably upon my bed. He visibly hesitated, perhaps he was only moments away from addressing what exactly had _happened _in that pool, but, instead, he simply pressed his lips together and thought for a moment. "You should've talked to someone about your nightmares. It might have helped you sleep."

"I didn't want to talk about what happened," I replied truthfully. "Stiles doesn't even know exactly what happened. And my grandparents…they were already stressed enough about me waking up every night, screaming bloody murder. They didn't need to know the real reason why I couldn't sleep."

The corners of Derek's mouth twitched downward, his head ducking down as he reluctantly nodded. "You…you should've come to me," he softly said. "I could have done something."

"No, I couldn't," I told him gently, shaking my head. "I knew that it was safest for us to keep our distance. And after you left my room that night…well, I wasn't even sure if I was ready to talk to you just yet."

A wry smile slipped onto Derek's face, but he didn't say a single word. Instead, he glanced back up at me and mutely studied my face, immediately causing blood to rush to my face as I chewed on the inside of my cheek. I found myself leaning in ever so slightly, heart thumping so loudly against my ribcage that I was quite positive Derek could easily hear it. Derek remained motionless, continuing to watch me with an unreadable expression planted on his face. But then, an all-too fresh memory of the last time I had been so breathlessly close to Derek forced me to hesitate.

"Derek," I finally whispered, blinking up at him now, "what happened on the night of the full moon when you…" I moistened my lips, unsure if I was quite ready to continue. But, realizing that this may be the best chance I would have to finally receive some answers, I finished, "What happened when you almost transitioned on the full moon?"

In an instant, Derek's spine stiffened, a flash of poorly muffled fury splashing across his face as his forest green eyes narrowed. He made to stand, but I immediately grasped at his wrist, forcing him to remain on my bed. "Derek, please. I…I think I deserve an explanation. After all that happened that night and…and what you said at the pool—"

"You have to know I didn't mean—"

"I know, Derek," I interrupted him, struggling to keep my voice steady as I recalled his cruel words. "I know what you were doing. But, after all that we've been through, after all the pain—don't you think I deserve at least an explanation for what happened?"

Sighing, Derek rubbed his long fingers against his strong jaw, clearly not thrilled with my proposition. "Jane—"

"Please, Derek," I pleaded. "All I want to know is the truth. Please."

Initially Derek seemed to be refusing to change his mind, instead glancing all around my bedroom once more. But, as he finally met my gaze with some hesitancy, he reluctantly nodded and asked, "Do you remember when I first told you about transitioning on the full moon—how, after so many full moons, we start to get used to the change and eventually learn how to control yourself?" At my hurried nod, he continued, "Well, I was always taught to find an anchor to use during the full moons—something to bind your human side to so that you can keep control during those darkest moments. It wasn't until…until after the fire that I started using anger and…" Derek's gaze slipped away from my face, his hands clenching into trembling white fists as he struggled to form the right words. I went to reach out to him, to brush my fingertips against his knuckles, but he pulled away, shaking his head slightly as he continued, "It was my anger and guilt that helped me stay human throughout the night. For six years, my anchor stayed that way, never wavering, and it kept me sane. But then…after Laura died, I met you."

"After you kept popping up in my life and making me…well, I found that anchor beginning to change into something else entirely, something I wasn't exactly familiar with. I was stronger and more capable on the full moon, which I had never felt before. But, once I had to keep my distance from you, I had to learn to return to that anger to keep control of myself. It was…difficult initially, but eventually I got control of it. Not seeing or hearing from you helped quite a bit, actually. Of course, I should've known it wouldn't be easy staying away from you for too long—not in this town, at least. And on that night of the full moon, when you and I were…together, I lost control. My ties with you were starting to edge out my anger, and I just couldn't find a way to tether down my human side any longer. That's when I began to change and, well, you know the rest of the story. I just had to get you out of there, before I lost complete control and hurt you. I…I couldn't live with that."

I remained silent during his entire explanation, my fingers subconsciously fidgeting with a stray strand on my pale yellow quilt as I watched him. The pain and discomfort stretched across his handsome face throughout the short time, his gaze eventually slipping from mine and falling to the same quilt that I was curled up under. My fingers pleaded with me to be allowed to slip forward and brush against his hand, but I kept them tucked away, unwilling to disrupt him concentration. Finally, when he had finished, I continued to hold my tongue, mulling his words over in my mind. But, before I even knew what was happening, I found my petite fingers reaching out and intertwining with Derek's.

"I know you would never hurt me," I genuinely whispered to him. "Even at that moment, I knew."

His gaze still refusing to meet mine, I fully expected Derek to pull his hand out of my grip. However, I was rather startled to find his grip on my hand tightening, his thumb lightly caressing my knuckles. "You ran away," he pointed out. "When I yelled, for once you listened and ran away."

"I didn't run because I was afraid of what you would do to me, Derek," I told him gently. "I ran because of the fear in your voice—I've never heard you sound so afraid before."

When Derek still refused to say anything, I lightly pressed my free fingers to his cheek, tenderly tugging his face up so that he was looking straight into my eyes. Hopefully he would catch the steady sound of my heartbeat as I honestly said, "Derek, you can never do anything to make me fear you. Sure, you may force me to want to strangle you sometimes, but I would never be afraid of what you could do to me. I…I trust you far too much to ever let that happen."

At first Derek said nothing, instead searching deep within my eyes as I kindly smiled up at him, my fingers still tangled with his much longer ones. Eventually I was able to watch as his head slightly nodded up and down, revealing his final understanding of how much I truly cared and trusted him. And then, ever so slowly, his other hand reached up to softly cradle my cheek, dragging me even closer to him. Before I could even comprehend what was happening, he pulled my lips to his, a wonderful warmth spreading throughout my entire body as Derek completely captured me within his grasp.

It wasn't a lasting or fiery kiss—it was nothing like when we both had lost complete control of ourselves on that night of the last full moon. But his passion and perhaps even something a little stronger was poured into that gentle kiss as he embraced me. My God, it felt so utterly magnificent. It was as if this was where I truly belonged—pressed so tightly into his arms as his one hand cradled my cheek and the other protected me from the fearsome reality swirling right outside my bedroom. No matter what happened after that night, I would eternally love Derek Hale more than I ever could any other meager man.

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**And that is the end of this chapter! Wow was that a long one! I really hope you enjoyed this chapter, and please don't forget to leave a review! Thank you so much for reading!**


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